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B Y 

REV. ANTHONY ATWOOD. 



Give attendance to reading." 

Study to show thyself approved." — St. Paul. 

By wisdom, is a house builded." — Solomon. 



Philadelphia: 
PUBLISHED BY CROLIUS & GLADDING, 

No. 341 Market Street, above Ninth. 

FOR THE ATWOOD LITERARY INSTITUTE. 



1842, 



^V^ 

K* 



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Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 
1842, by Anthony Atwood, in the Clerk's Office of 
the District Court in the Eastern District of Pennsylvana. 



£ 



PRINTED BY KING AND BAIRD. 



TO 

YOUNG MEN, GENERALLY, 

AND ESPECIALLY TO THE MEMBERS, 
OF THE 

ATWOOD LITERARY INSTITUTE, 

ASSOCIATED TOGETHER 



FOR MUTUAL IMPROVEMENT , 



PREPARATORY TO 



IS THIS 

<&mall QLokm of ^tfecttatt, 

HUMBLY INSCRIBED, 

BY THEIR FRIEND, 

The Author 



PREFACE. 



The circumstances which have occasion- 
ed the writing of this work are simply 
these. Two years since the Author de- 
livered a course of sermons, on Sabbath 
evenings, to the young people of his con- 
gregation, in which an effort was made to 
point out the course which all young per- 
sons should pursue, if they ever hoped to 
obtain character and standing, or wished to 
be of advantage to the world. Soon after- 
ward, a society of young men was formed 
in the neighborhood, calling themselves the 
" Atwood Literary Institute." The first 
knowledge the Author had of the circum- 
stance was, his being called upon to sug- 
gest a suitable motto for the society, after 
it had been formed, and its constitution 
fixed. 

Subsequently he was waited on by a 
committee of the society, and requested to 



VI FREFACE. 

deliver a sermon to young men, on an 
evening designated. A copy of which was 
afterwards requested for publication, which 
was for various reasons declined. Then 
was introduced the subject of a small book 
for the special benefit of young persons, 
which though short, should embody all the 
most important matters necessary for them 
to know and keep constantly before their 
minds. 

The Author was not unaware of the 
amount of labor and time the preparation 
of sueh a work would require when he 
agreed to undertake it, or the slang that its 
publication might call forth from the idle 
or envious. Yet encouraged by the hope 
of doing some good, to those for whom he 
has for years, felt a deep and abiding in- 
terest, the work was commenced in the fear 
of God and with a humble reliance upon 
his blessing. 

It is not pretended of course, that all is 
said upon any one of the topics introduced, 
that might have been. This would require 
a larger work, the price of which would 



PREFACE. Vll 

have placed it out of the reach of the 
very class for whose benefit it was intended, 
and thus defeated the Author's design. Be- 
sides, it would have required more time 
than he had to spare from other and press- 
ing engagements. 

Imperfections will doubtless be found 
both in thought and style, by many who 
may chance to peruse it. If, however, the 
object of the writer is gained, and the work 
is useful to those for whose improvement 
it has been undertaken, he is quite careless 
of other consequences. He wishes neither 
to preach nor write for show. Professing 
to be a utilitarian in all respects, it is 
hoped that no other feeling has influenced 
him in penning a solitary sentence herein 
found. The most that has been aimed at, 
is clearness and force. No book written 
for the popular good, should in the Author's 
deeming, contain a sentence, requiring to be 
read twice in order to be understood. The 
meaning should stare the reader in the face 
at once, or it will not be long remembered. 
Young persons of but little leisure, spe- 



Vlll PREFACE. 

cially require such a style. It is believed, 
this has not been lost sight of from first to 
last. 

After this remark the Author need not 
say, that the work is principally intended 
for the working classes, on this point it 
speaks for itself. These, if any, are the 
neglected ones. Their parents are too apt 
to neglect their intellectual cultivation, and 
themselves are prone to think too little of 
their own powers and capacities. As a 
consequence, they fail to use the necessary 
efforts to develop their own native energies. 
Circumstances in their view, preclude the 
possibility of their ever being men of gene- 
ral intelligence, or rising above the humble 
prospects of their birth. They have not 
time to read, as it is all devoted to toil and 
manual labor. And they are so beset by 
other difficulties and temptations, as to be 
prone to yield to necessity or the force of 
circumstances, and therefore, use no efforts 
to rise to respectability and intelligence. In 
these pages an effort is made with such to 
banish discouragement, inspire with hope, 



PREFACE. IX 

and lead to activity and diligence, in the 
improvement of every fragment of time 
allotted them, in faithful application to 
study. The Author himself would have 
been thankful for such a work, during his 
minority. And he indulges the belief that 
no one possessing the least ambition, can 
read it without advantage. 

He also hopes that parents and guardians, 
will feel sufficient interest in the present 
and future well-being of those committed 
to their care, to purchase a copy for each 
lad in their families, allow him make it his 
own property, and faithfully advise him to 
read it. Its perusal may inspire ambition 
where there is none existing, and create an 
appetite for general reading, where other- 
wise it would never have existed. 

Sabbath School Teachers may find it to 
their advantage to read this small volume. 
It will not occupy much of their time. And 
if it shall induce greater reading habits, 
and provoke a worthy emulation in doing 
good, the time and labor thus bestowed 
will not be lost. From the ranks of Sabbath 



X PREFACE. 

School Teachers, are doubtless to arise 
many useful ministers and influential mem- 
bers of society. They should, therefore, 
improve the present in faithful preparation 
for the future. Time lost now, will be a 
serious source of regret at a not very dis- 
tant day. 

The work is exclusively the property of 
the "Literary Institute" above named. 
They bear the expense and responsibility 
of its publication, and the profits, (if any,) 
are theirs, to aid them in furnishing them- 
selves with a useful library. The Author 
has been at the trouble of writing and 
passing it through the press, solely for their 
benefit and that of young men generally 
who may take the pains to read it. 

And he sends it into the world accom- 
panied by his fervent prayers for its useful- 
ness. That it may lead some at least, into 
" the good and right way," and tend to 
preserve many others from those vices 
which have already ruined thousands. 

THE AUTHOR. 

Philad., Dec. 17th, 1841. 



CONTENTS. 



Chapter I. 13 

Responsibilities of the young, — Interest they 
awaken in society — Influence they will have in 
future — Obligation to parents — Apprenticeship — 
Object of it. 

Chapter II. - - - - 35 

On intellectual attainments. — Education defined 
— Moral education — Way to obtain it — Discipline 
necessary — Discouragements — Too late to begin — 
Edmund Stone — Want of time — Economy of time 
— Want of taste — Taste cultivated — W. Scott's let- 
ter to son — Bad memory — May be strengthened — 
Want of means — Inducements. 

Chapter III. 84 

On the importance of character. — Study useless 
without it — The man without a shadow — Self-re- 
spect — Personal appearance — Respect for others — . 
Morality and Religion — Benefits of early piety — 
Attention to Church — Benefit of a firm faith — En- 
ergy of character — Dr. Franklin, &c. — Toil useful 
— Honesty — Economy — Kindness and good nature 
— Manliness always to be preserved. 



XU CONTENTS. 

Chapter IV. - - - 125 

Dangers common to youth, — Antagonist influ- 
ences — Ambition — Habits of useless intercourse — 
Gambling — The road to ruin — An example — Pro- 
fanity — Infidelity — Light reading — Amusements — 
Theatres — Disobedience to parents — An awful ex- 
ample — Politics. 

Chapter V. - - - 177 

Duties of young men. — Usefulness — Support 
Churches Sabbath Schools — Temperance — Re- 
sponsibilities. 



THE YOUNG MAN'S WAY TO HONOR, 



CHAPTER I. 

RELATIVE IMPORTANCE AND RESPONSIBILI- 
TIES OF THE YOUNG. 

Every one should duly know his condi- 
tion and feel his responsibilities, at every 
point in his history, if he wishes at the close 
of his life to review the past with any satis- 
faction. The principal part of the misery 
and regret experienced in advanced life, if 
traced to its source, would be found to ori- 
ginate in carelessness and early personal 
neglect. The importance of youth is learn- 
ed by observing its bearing upon after life. 
And this observance, with the course to 
which it leads, constitutes, mainly, if not 

2 



14 RESPONSIBILITIES OF THE YOUNG. 

entirely, the difference between men, as to 
honor or dishonor, success or failure. The 
lad who sees in himself all the lineaments of 
the future man, though now in miniature, 
and wisely commences their full develop- 
ment in early life, will stand among Princes. 
On the contrary he who lives by no rule, 
carelessly suffers the years of youth to pass 
away, and grows up as "nature's own 
child," without meditating his important 
relation to the world in which he lives, will 
in nine cases out of ten, be a useless cum- 
berer of the ground. 

I would have the young reflect on the 
interest they awaken in society. Almost 
every movement, either great or small, has 
them for its object. The man of business, 
whos*e energies, both of body and mind, are 
taxed to the extent of their bearing, whose 
time and talents are continually occupied in 
the pursuit of gain, does not do ali this 
barely for himself. For his own support 
and comfort he has enough already, and 
could retire and take his rest for the bal- 
ance of his days. But he looks to his 



INTEREST TAKEN IN YOUTH. 15 

children with an eye of parental fondness, 
and wishes to provide for them. The mind 
of the philanthropist, which is ever intent 
on the lasting good of community, seeks it 
not so much in efforts, having their bearing 
on those of mature years, or advanced age, 
as on the young and growing. He well 
knows that the former will soon be no 
more, and the latter must occupy their 
places in every department of society. For 
whose benefit are schools and colleges 
erected, and maintained at such a vast ex- 
pense of time and treasure ? On whose 
account are so many books written and 
published, on every subject within the 
range of human knowledge and research, 
simplifying every science, and opening all 
the mysteries of nature to the common eye ? 
For what are Sabbath Schools maintained 
and promoted in almost every church in 
the Christian world ? The object of the 
whole is the improvement of the youthful 
mind and heart, and through them] the 
bettering of the mental, moral, and social 
condition of mankind. 



16 IGNORANT OF WHAT WE MAYBE. 

And is all this a light matter to be care- 
lessly heeded and little appreciated by those 
for whose benefit the whole exists ? Will 
they, can they be so reckless as to dash the 
cup of blessings from their lips, and disap- 
point the cherished expectations of those 
who seek their best interests now and 
throughout their being ? Whatever may 
be the course of some, I am persuaded by 
present indications, that the great majority 
of young men who receive the impulses of 
this enterprising age, and the educational 
advantages which it affords, will be pro- 
perly roused to activity in the faithful im- 
provement of their lofty advantages. The 
qualifications necessary to meet these vast 
responsibilities, are not to be gained by a 
listless course of inaction — nor by luxuriat- 
ing in the dreamy paths of fashionable ease 
and idleness. This will rust out the better 
faculties of our nature, as well as fix ruin- 
ous habits, to destroy which the regrets of 
a whole life will be wholly unavailing. 

The author of our being and directer of 
our lives has wiselv concealed from us fu- 



IGNORANT OF WHAT WE MAY BE. 17 

ture circumstances. It is not in the power 
of man to tell what responsibilities he will 
have to bear, or what offices he will have to 
fill in the nation or church. Could this be 
ascertained at an early period of life, each 
one would naturally pursue the studies 
which would confer a qualification for that 
specific employment, and shut himself out, 
more or less, from all other knowledge. But 
as the tendency of this would be to cut 
society up into various professions, and by 
interposing an impassable bar between 
each, would disunite and estrange the mem- 
bers of a great family from each other, 
Divine Providence has forbidden it. As no 
man, therefore, can foresee what will be 
required of him in the future detail of life's 
affairs, common prudence admonishes all 
to be ready for almost any thing that can 
in propriety be required of a man. I once 
knew a lad who lived in the country, and 
attended a country school some three 
months in each year ; where the principal 
branches taught, were reading, writing, and 
arithmetic. But few in that school deemed 

2* 



18 A PLACE FOR EVERY ONE. 

it necessary to go further than this. All 
other learning than that immediately re- 
quired in ordinary country business was 
supposed to be useless, and even deleterious, 
as it fostered human pride. The lad re- 
ferred to, had somewhere seen a small 
geography, and became desirous to have 
some knowledge of it ; but his friends dis- 
couraged and finally prevented him from 
undertaking it, alledging that it could not 
possibly do him any good, as he would 
never be placed in circumstances where 
such knowledge would be required. But 
how were they mistaken, for in the ar- 
rangements of the wise disposer of events, 
that same lad became a minister of Jesus 
Christ, to dying man. And what his pa- 
dents deemed unnecessary, and therefore, 
not only neglected to teach him, but refused 
to let him learn, he had to acquire at a great 
disadvantage when engaged in the respon- 
sible and active duties of his profession. 

Nor is this a solitary case — scores of the 
same character might be adduced was it 
deemed necessary ; but it is not. No man 



A PLACE FOR EVERY ONE. 19 

can tell until some experience has furnished 
him the material of calculation, what part 
he is to act, or what place he is naturally 
or habitually best fitted to occupy. The 
world is before every youth, and although 
all offices and places may seem occupied 
and so filled up that no place is left for him, 
yet those laws are always at work which 
having made way for those before, will 
clear a place for him also. But little did 
Patrick Henry or his friends, dream of the 
part he was destined to occupy, when he 
was lounging about some stream with his 
angling rod, or traversing some wood with 
his gun. There can be no question, but that 
he frequently regretted in after life the man- 
ner in which he had spent his boyhood and 
youth. He was a great man it is true, but 
his greatness was that of the mountain tor- 
rent, rather than the steady fertilizing 
stream. His grasp upon a subject was 
strong and tremendous, but not continuous. 
Had he accustomed himself to hard study, 
and disciplined his mind in early life, he 
would have been a far different man, and 



20 ALL HAVE INFLUENCE. 

most probably, much more useful to his 
country. 

Every man is more or less responsible for 
the doings of the world. Each individual 
is a constituent part of general society, and 
has influence somewhere for which he will 
have to account either in this life or the 
one which is to follow. It is when view- 
ing youth in this light, that they are magni- 
fied into the greatest importance. They no 
longer appear isolated and solitary, but are 
seen rising to the exertion of a power of 
most fearful consequence to themselves and 
others. 

It was this that led Mr. Wesley to say — 
" I reverence a young man because he will 
live and act when I am dead." This is the 
sentiment of every real philanthropist, who 
instead of looking barely upon himself — 
thinks and feels for his race. Young men 
are the strength and hope of the nation. 
Our fathers who formed our laws, and 
fashioned those institutions of which we 
are so proud, and of which we are wont to 
make our boast, are dead, or dying, and it 



ALL HAVE INFLUENCE. 21 

is a question of no small interest, who shall 
rise up to take their places of honor and 
trust ? The rising generation must do it. 
But will they be qualified to stand in their 
places and discharge their duties with re- 
spectability and honor — to their own, and 
the country's advantage ? It has ever been 
true, < that when the wicked rule, the people 
mourn/ And such is the present state of 
politics in our country, that the unworthy 
and vicious are most apt to gain the ascend- 
ency. Having no fixed moral principles to 
serve as a restraint, they are at liberty to 
descend to the low arts of trick and bribery, 
— loud huzza's and street broils, to effect 
their purposes. While the upright citizen, 
guided by correct principles, and taking no 
step but what is strictly honorable ; is fre- 
quently prevented from reaching the place 
for which he is well qualified, because he 
will not meet the vulgar on their own 
ground. 

It was a remark of a distinguished man 
in our nation's history, that " in a govern- 
ment founded on the public will — where 



22 VIRTUOUS PRINCIPLES. 

the voice of the people, can build up or pull 
down at pleasure, it is a truth of plain and 
fearful import, that this will must be under 
the regulation and control of sound and 
enlightened principles, or virtue will very- 
soon have no defence, and vice no check. 
In no age of the world, has there been 
greater need of high moral and intellectual 
culture. What else shall restrain the excess 
of passion, or check the outbreakings of 
misrule and licentiousness ? Vain will be 
the majesty of our laws, and unavailing 
their sanctions, if religion shall be despoiled 
of its authority, and conscience lose its in- 
fluence. Let these foundations be destroyed, 
and the main pillars of our institutions, must 
sink together,in one general ruin, and history 
add another page to the sad record of de- 
parted republics." 

Thus will every youth, see that he cannot 
live to himself, confine his influence at 
pleasure, nor shake off the weight of re- 
sponsibility which is placed upon him with- 
out his consent ? Your parents to whom 
you are indebted for your being, and all the 



OBLIGATION TO PARENTS. 23 

Cares which early childhood required, look 
to you for some return, for their vast ex- 
penditure of time and toil, in your behalf. 
A life of virtue and manly rectitude — re- 
flecting honor and credit upon them, will 
be the only reward which to them will be 
satisfactory. Obedience and filial affection 
on your part, is indispensable to their hap- 
piness and to yours. Let no youth, on 
arrivingat majority — deem himself absolved 
from the necessity of further obedience to^ 
parents. Though he is permitted to act for 
himself — to appropriate at pleasure the pro- 
ceeds of his own labor, yet is he not free of 
the law of his parents. Nor will he be until 
they are laid in the dust. The same law 
that required them to bear with his youth- 
ful follies, and watch over him night and 
day, in sickness and health, now binds him 
to reciprocate their acts of goodness, and 
lend the supporting hand of kindness, to 
tottering age. Obedience to parents is the 
first commandment with a promise, whilst 
disobedience and neglect, is visited with 
Heaven's severest retributions. It is seldom, 



24 MUCH NOW DONE FOR YOUTH. 

indeed, that the disobedient and unkind to 
parents, live out their full time, or are as 
successful in temporal business as other 
men. They are generally unhappy in mar- 
riage, and their children in turn, treat them 
with the same carelessness and disrespect. 
Thus do miseries and misfortunes seem to 
cleave to the family, as by an entail, like 
the leprosy of Gehazi. If but one word of 
advice to youth were allowed me, I would 
say, be obedient to parents, and never bring 
a disgrace on those who best love you. 

Much is now doing for the youth of our 
own country, and of the civilized world. 
Lyceums and Literary Societies, abound 
every where, and are still increasing, in 
number and usefulness. Time and money 
thus lavishly expended, are far from being 
wasted, though many efforts may seem to 
fail. Much seed thrown into the ground, 
is destined to perish, by a combination of 
circumstances, but still the husbandman is 
rewarded, by what comes to maturity. So 
that no one should give place to discourage- 
ment in view of the ruined about him. Too 



OBJECT OF IT. 25 

much labor cannot be bestowed upon the 
youthful portion of community ; too much 
careful supervision on the part of parents 
and guardians, cannot be had. 

If I could awaken in every youthful 
bosom, a true sense of the dignity of his 
being, the magnitude of his duties, the re- 
sponsibilities of his situation, and induce 
him to look well to his future destinies, as a 
man and an immortal being, my purpose 
would be fully realized. What each one is 
to be hereafter throws around him an over- 
whelming interest now. It is principally this, 
which gives such an importance to all young 
persons. The design of these pages, is to 
arouse their activity if it slumbers, to call 
out their energies, by early and well direct- 
ed exercises ; that when their muscles, and 
whole physical form shall be fully developed, 
they may be intellectually and physically, 
men. Men qualified for any, and every 
station in life, to which they may be called 
by the voice of their fellows, or the provi- 
dence of God. 

3 



26 APPRENTICESHIP. 



APPRENTICESHIP. 

It should never be thought a disgrace to 
be an apprentice. If it be called bondage, 
it is an honorable bondage. I see but little 
difference between the rich and the poor, in 
this particular. All have to pass through 
a course of preparation for after life. The 
more affluent send their sons to school from 
early youth,, to the first stages of manhood. 
During this time, they are virtually appren- 
tices, subject to strict rules, which they dare 
not transgress ; under continual fear of su- 
periors ; tasked during the whole day, and 
sometimes for a good part of the night, to 
the utmost stretch of their abilities, they 
have but little time they can call their own. 
Like apprentices to a mechanical business, 
they are generally away from home, and 
the indulgent influences of parental kind- 
ness ; have to eat at a common table, but 
illy supplied with luxuries, and barely suf- 
ficient in quantity to meet and satisfy the 
calls of nature. 

The difference you perceive is more in 



HONORABLE. 27 

name than reality. Nor is the toil of the 
student at College, a whit less severe and 
laborious than that of the lad apprenticed, 
to learn any ordinary mechanical business. 
It is therefore difficult to see why the con- 
dition of one should be less reputable than 
the other, or why the common apprentice, 
should be esteemed and looked upon as 
an inferior to the College student. Both 
are learning a business, which is to prepare 
them for after life, that they may be service- 
able to themselves, and the community in 
which they are to live. Nor can it ordi- 
narily be said with truth, that professional 
men are more important to the world, than 
industrious and upright workingmen. 

It is the lot of every man to work his way 
through life in some form, for this, he must 
seek a preparation during minority. All 
men come into the world alike ignorant of 
either mechanics or science, and have to be 
taught by those who were once as destitute 
as themselves. Can that, therefore, be 
deemed disreputable which is the common 
lot of all, and is to prepare for the doings 



28 OBJECT OF APPRENTICESHIP. 

of manhood, and the acquisition of wealth 
and comfort? The prejudice gainst labor 
is as unnatural as it is unphilosophical and 
wicked. It has injured society more than 
all the revolutions that have ever occurred. 

In becoming an apprentice it is true ; a 
man is put under the power and control 
of another, but it is to gain power for him- 
self. It is a brief and voluntary surrender 
of liberty for the sake of future gain, and 
should be considered as purchasing what 
another has to sell, at a given price. In all 
such transactions, there are two parties, 
both having rights, which each is bound in 
all fairness and honor to respect. The 
master is obligated to teach, instruct and 
fulfil all his promises, and the apprentice is 
equally pledged to reverence and obey. 
There is however in some instances a rest- 
lessness on the part of the latter, a desire of 
freedom and independence before the alloted 
time, wholly inconsistent with either his 
present happiness, or future well being. 

The indulgence of this discontent is most 
disastrous in its consequences. It shuts 



DISSATISFIED. 29 

out all desire of intellectual improvement, 
renders him who harbors it, constantly 
miserable, sours his disposition, prevents 
his faithfulness, and in some cases leads him 
meanly to abscond. Among all the cases 
which have come under my observation 
where this has occurred, I have not been 
able to discover one that has eventuated 
well. This rash step, generally taken in 
haste, is often followed by the most serious 
consequences, and I believe always by sin- 
cere regret. Such in general, have but half 
learned their trade, so that it is difficult for 
them to find employment ; are thrown 
among strangers who feel little or no inter- 
est in their welfare, and are therefore ex- 
posed-to misery and humiliation, a thousand 
times worse than that from which j they 
have fled. Add to these, the fear of pursuit 
and detection, the constant sense of shame, 
and fearful burden of conscious disgrace, 
which are ever haunting the mind, and you 
have some idea of the wretchedness of him 
who has broken his obligation, by fleeing 
from his employer. 

3* 



SO GOOD CONDUCT REWARDED. 

I cannot too strongly guard you against 
such a course. If you wish to sustain cha- 
racter and win the respect of those about 
you, now and hereafter, you will conduct 
yourself very differently. Strict conscien- 
tious obedience which will not allow you to 
" answer again," is the duty of all, in your 
circumstances. The way to honor, is hu- 
mility. He who humbleth himself now 
shall be hereafter exalted. The master 
mechanic who now has the direction of 
several hundred hands, was once in your 
condition. By compelling himself content- 
edly to submit to his lot then, he learned 
his business, obtained the good will of his 
employer, and established a character which 
has served as a passport to his present stand- 
ing and influence. 

If the promptings of a praise-worthy 
ambition lead you to hope for similar emi- 
nence and standing, the way is open before 
you. In order to such a result the right 
course must be taken now. Rise early and 
be at your work, spend no time in idleness 
and careless chat, carry about you an open 



SEEK EMPLOYERS INTEREST. 31 

and frank countenance, and treat all your 
fellow apprentices with due respect. Be 
ever seeking the interest of your employer 
as you would desire others to do by your- 
self, if placed in his circumstances. By this 
course you will gain his confidence and 
secure his favor, a matter of vast importance 
to every apprentice. Nothing so effectually 
injures and blasts the earthly prospects of 
those in your situation as to be called " eye 
servants/' This you are to avoid by deter- 
mined diligence, and the most resolute faith- 
fulness. Your work should be done as 
well and with as much speed, when alone ; 
as when under the eye of your employer. 

Strict truth and honesty, in small matters 
as well as large, should be ever maintained. 
The reverse of this, will ruin you forever, 
however industrious you may be. For 
every falsehood you tell now, and every 
penny's worth, directly or indirectly ab- 
stracted from your employer, you will have 
to pay a fearful interest, in the future details 
of life. 

It is quite possible that you may deem 



32 DISCIPLINE GOOD. 

your work too hard, the labor too severe, 
and the discipline too stern and rigid. But 
of this you are at present, not a good judge. 
It may be for your good, by giving you a 
hardy constitution, preventing evil habits, 
and teaching you the way to success in 
business when of age. At any rate, you 
will see the reason for this hereafter, and it 
may serve a valuable purpose in the future 
direction of your life. A present seeming 
evil may be the germ of lasting good. 
Never repine under your circumstances, 
but always be cheerful and kind. In the 
place of business, in the family, among your 
associates, always be ready to lend such 
assistance as may be required, and thus 
win upon the affections of all. In serving 
others, ever bear it in mind, that you are 
also effectually benefitting yourself. When 
you come of age, these acts of goodness, to- 
gether with a character of honesty, veracity 
and industry, will not be forgotten. The 
employer will feel that he cannot spare you 
from his business. And during revulsions 
in trade, whilst thousands are out of employ, 



KINDNESS. 33 

you will generally find work enough to 
keep you busy. And when you desire to 
start business on your own account, the 
character which has been established by the 
toil of years, will be found serviceable, in 
raising up friends to assist, and stand by 
you in the hour of greatest need. 

While preparing for the future scenes of 
active life, you will do well never to forget 
the interest the world has in you, and the 
important claim it has upon you. In a few 
years you will be free of those restraints 
which now confine your influence to a small 
circle. The knowledge now possessed may 
serve present purposes, but as you will soon 
have much more to do with mankind than 
at present, you should be constantly enlarg- 
ing your knowledge of men and things. 
Your evenings therefore ought not to be 
spent in trifling amusements, but in reading 
history, attending lectures, or in some way 
of intellectual or moral improvement. This 
is your best, and perhaps your only time. 
Improve it while you may, or you will cer- 
tainly have many seasons of unavailing 



34 KINDNESS. 

regret hereafter. Employ every leisure 
half hour, nor carelessly while away one of 
them. These every man can find in some 
part of the day or night, sufficient if duly 
regarded and rightly spent vastly to improve 
his mind, and prepare him for future re- 
spectability and usefulness. 



INTELLECTUAL ATTAINMENTS. 35 



CHAPTER II. 

ON INTELLECTUAL ATTAINMENTS. 

Man possesses a twofold nature, a body 
and a mind, a physical and a thinking 
power. It requires both to constitute man. 
Both as they now exist require education, 
to be able to serve the purposes for which 
they were originally intended. The term 
education is said to be derived from e and 
ducoy to lead forth, bring out and develop, 
and is, therefore, as correctly applied to the 
body as the mind. When used in relation 
to the former, it implies that process by 
which the faculties of the physical man are 
trained and wrought up to their full capa- 
cities and capabilities. When used in 
relation to the latter, it comprehends the 
full development of the intellectual and 
moral powers. There is no necessity of 



36 EDUCATION. 

urging the importance of physical culture, 
as all men seem agreed upon this. Every 
father is desirous his son should learn some 
branch of business, some art or trade, by 
which he will be able to maintain himself 
in respectability. For this purpose he is 
early apprenticed, and sent from home to 
serve several long years in acquiring the 
knowledge of some handicraft. No man 
could walk, talk, write his name, or per- 
form any physical operation, seemingly the 
most simple and easy, had he not received 
physical education. These all seem to be 
voluntary,and easy of accomplishment to us 
now, having long since taught our muscles 
to obey the dictates of the will. Had no 
one taken pains with us in childhood, and 
instructed us in the imitation of sound, 
we should this day have been mutes, had 
we survived so long. So, the student in 
any science has to submit to a long course 
of practice in connexion with theory in 
order to be a proficient. The lady must sit 
for many weary hours at the piano before 
she can play well, however versed she may 



EDUCATION. 37 

be in the theory and principles of music. 
Skill in mechanics of all kinds furnishes 
illustration of the same fact. 

But mental and intellectual education is 
that upon which I choose more especially 
to dwell. This may include what is ordi- 
narily meant by it. The acquisition of one 
or all the languages — one or all the sciences 
taught in modern schools. But this by no 
means exhausts the term, as it is certainly 
possible to have all these, together with a 
fair preparation for business, and yet be 
grossly deficient in good intellectual and 
moral education. The education frequently 
given in these days makes a man a fop — a 
silly coxcomb — or a pretty play thing, in- 
stead of a full grown gentleman. It may 
give him a partial knowledge of many 
matters, proper enough for him to know, 
but is too apt to leave him lamentably 
ignorant of what most concerns him. We 
have said that the object of education 
is to bring out and develop the entire 
powers and capacities of the man. It is 
intended to give depth and profundity to 

4 



38 EDUCATION. 

the understanding — strength and tenacity 
to the memory, that what is written on it 
may remain, to be called up for service in 
the necessities of after life. It must con- 
trol the passions — curb and subdue animal 
nature, so as to give ascendency to the 
rational powers. Man, forgetful that he is 
a rational being, intended to be controlled 
by reason, understanding, and judgment, by 
indulging in full play his animal passions, 
becomes brutal in his character and habits. 
Eight training connected with suitable in- 
struction, gives him a view of his own 
proper character, tells him he is a man in- 
stead of a brute, and therefore, should be 
controlled and governed by manly princi- 
ples and the authority of reason. 

The will and affections, those main springs 
and most potent sources of human action, 
are to be taught, trained and subdued, that 
they may serve and readily obey the dicta- 
tion of the understanding and judgment, not 
control them. The passions, which in all 
untutored men, possess a savage wildness 
and ferocity — education is intended to tame 



EDUCATION. 39 

and socialize. That man, whatever be his 
pretensions to learning and science, who 
cannot control his passions — but suffers 
himself to get heated and intoxicated with 
rage, at every untoward and unexpected 
incident, or trifling opposition from his fel- 
lows, is not a well educated man. He mav 
have learned to master the most difficult 
problems in mathematical science, and the 
science of government — but he has not 
learned to master himself. Be it known and 
ever remembered that "he who ruleth his own 
spirit is better than he who taketh a city !" 
All the disgraceful broils and tumults among 
men in high or low life, from the lofty halls 
of Congress dow 7 n through all the interme- 
diate grades of society to the abhorred fights 
in a dirty grog-shop, are caused either by a 
deficient, or a total want of education. 

It is education also that furnishes a cor- 
rect taste, (a most important matter,) chast- 
ens the imagination and gives ability to think 
long and closely on any given subject. It 
commits to a man the power to confine his 



40 MORAL EDUCATION. 

attention as he chooses, by which he can 
gain knowledge to an indefinite extent. 
Creation is before him, and intellectual edu- 
cation will serve as the box of instruments 
by which he who has it can measure its 
length, breadth and depth, — he can weigh, 
dissect and analyze at pleasure. 

Moral education is the developement and 
proper discipline of the moral faculties, than 
which nothing can be more important to 
men circumstanced as we are. It is the 
implantation of moral principles, and con- 
veying to the mind that instruction which 
teaches us to know both the nature, and 
how to discharge the various duties which 
we owe to God and our fellows. It defines 
the difference between truth and error — 
virtue and vice — inspiring us with a love 
and admiration for the former, and a hor- 
ror and hatred to the latter. By it we are 
taught, that as we are immortal, we are 
therefore accountable beings — and that all 
our words and works, thoughts and indul- 
gences, are reviewed by a higher power, 



MORAL EDUCATION. 4l 

who will call us to an account at a future 
period, for the manner in which we have 
spent our time, and used our talents. 

But I will cease my definitions, and at- 
tend to what is of far more importance to 
all young persons — namely, a description of 
the way in which the intellectual and moral 
powers may be duly developed. It is one 
thing to show what is to be done, and an- 
other to point out the best and most ready 
way of doing it. Both are necessary, but 
not equally so, as we are naturally more apt 
to know what is duty, than to perform it 
when known. The necessity of mental ac- 
quirement, must be apparent to every think- 
ing man at an early age. All must more or 
less clearly see the distinction it invaria- 
bly makes between men otherwise similarly 
circumstanced. This itself, one might sup- 
pose, would be a sufficient spur to urge 
every young man forward in the laborious 
work of intellectual acquirement — since it 
invariably raises those who submit to it, to 
some degree of eminence and consequent 



42 DISCIPLINE OF THE MIND. 

usefulness, and the neglect of it never fails 
to be attended with merited disgrace. 

I should not fail, therefore, to admonish 
you of a fact with which you are doubtless 
more or less acquainted, that the intellectual 
faculties, like the physical, generally remain 
stationary or dwindle away without exer- 
cise, diligent, persevering and active. There 
is no other known way in which the mind 
can gain strength — become capacious and 
powerful. Knowledge must be gained to 
serve as capital on which to do business, 
but knowledge is not all for which you are 
to labor. The discipline and habits formed 
in the acquisition of wealth, are far more use- 
ful to its possessor, than the mere possession 
of the acquired treasure. Hence the differ- 
ence ever to be observed between those who 
have property left them, and such as have 
gained it by the sturdy efforts of personal 
industry. You are to seek strength of mind 
by useful discipline of the faculties posses- 
sed, rather than any fancied amount of know- 
ledge. In order to this, it is essential to have 
some rule of life — some plan of study and 



STUDY BY RULE. 43 

daily application. And when the plan is 
wisely laid, never suffer it to be sacrificed, 
though perseverance in it should cost you 
much. Though it cause you to neglect all 
the light works in creation, and the flood of 
pretty annuals lie unread on your right and 
left. Though it cut you loose from many 
previous associations, hitherto held dear as 
your very existence, and on which you once 
thought your happiness mainly depended. 
Breaking off from a course of study wisely 
arranged to read every trifle that is prettily 
done up, is like leaving solid and wholesome 
food, to partake of hurtful sweat-meats, 
which enervate rather than strengthen. 
The greatest men sometimes read the few- 
est books, but what is read is made their 
own. Not committed it is true — for no wise 
man commits much — but analyzed — digest- 
ed, and well understood. Like Wm. Penn, 
they have read men as well as books, and 
hence their readiness in grasping and com- 
prehending every matter that comes before 
them, as by intuition. 



44 DISCOURAGEMENTS. 



DISCOURAGEMENTS 



Many are deterred from a faithful course 
of intellectual application, because they have 
little hope of success. They have long 
since conceded the point, that large facili- 
ties and abundant opportunities of wealth 
and leisure, are essential to a good educa- 
tion. And because they have unfortunately 
been born without these, and providence 
has to them dealt out bounties with a penu- 
rious hand, they give up to despair, and 
foolishly yield to what seems to be their 
fate. A little reflection will convince the 
thoughtful that their discouragements are 
premature and hasty. Time and other fa- 
cilities, it is true, are very desirable, but far 
from being essential to either usefulness or 
greatness. The history of the past — our 
principal guide in such matters, fully proves 
this. It has often been said, and the asser- 
tion is fully sustained by the evidence of 
literary biography, that intellectual great- 
ness is most commonly found at first in ob- 



WEALTH UNFAVORABLE TO GREATNESS. 45 

scurity and poverty. In what are called by 
the conventional habits of society, the higher 
walks of life, where opulence pampers sen- 
suality and flatters vanity, it is almost im- 
possible to attain intellectual eminence. 
And for this reason, a smooth sea never 
makes a skilful sailor. Poverty and obscu- 
rity being dependent upon its own resources, 
must remain unhonored or rise by the might 
of its own energy. A quality is acquired in 
such circumstances, which ever lies at the 
foundation of true greatness, viz.— a sense 
of self dependance. 

I believe that the history of the world 
will prove, that to be engaged in active em- 
ployment is propitious and favorable to in- 
tellectual cultivation, rather than injurious. 
And perhaps one principal reason for it is — 
the physical frame is kept in a healthy state 
by its activity, which is always favorable to 
mental action, and intellectual strength. 
And it is a well known fact, that the mind 
accustomed to meet and overcome difficul- 
ties, becomes more and more daring and in- 
trepid, and more willing to tax its powers 



46 SUCCESSFUL APPLICATION. 

to the last point of endurance. There is 
also a pride in human nature, which delights 
in excelling those who are accustomed to 
deem themselves our superiors. Whatever 
may be the reasons for it — certain it is, if 
history speaks truth, that some of the great- 
est men the world has known, have arisen 
from very inconspicuous situations. Epic- 
tetus the moralist, was born a slave, yet be- 
came the pride of stoical philosophers, and 
the friend of the worthiest Roman Empe- 
rors. Murray, who tho' dead now, speaks 
and instructs in our schools, was a shep- 
herd's boy. Franklin was once a printer's 
apprentice, yet he became one of the most 
distinguished philosophers and statesmen of 
his age. Sir Humphrey Davy, though the 
son of a wood carver, became the first and 
most daring chemist of his time. - Columbus 
was a sailor, and by his enterprise became 
a vast benefactor of the world. And our 
own Roger Sherman, whose statesmanship 
was so well appreciated during the revolu- 
tion and since, was a shoemaker. And 
time would fail, as well as the patience of 



TOO OLD TO BEGIN. 47 

the reader, were I to enumerate all who 
have risen from the common walks of life 
to greatness. Herschel, once a soldier in 
Nova Scotia, who has fixed his name among 
the stars, and the well known blacksmith of 
New England, who, though steadily pur- 
suing his business, has well nigh mastered 
all the languages of this * babbling earth.' 
Shakspeare, Adam Clarke, and Richard 
Watson, whose works will continue to 
please and profit mankind as long as litera- 
ture, science and virtue shall continue to 
command admiration— all worked their way 
to eminence without the advantages of 
wealth and leisure. 



TOO OLD TO BEGIN. 

Discouragement with some arises from 
an additional circumstance. They con- 
ceive themselves too far advanced in life 
ever to hope for success, though they were 
now to make the attempt. I would com- 



48 EDMUND STONE* 

mend such to the noble examples of Dr. 
Adam Clarke, Rev. Samuel Drew, the writer 
on the philosophy of mind, whose works will 
ever praise him, and Dr. Franklin, all of 
whom, with many others that might be 
named, are evidences of what can be done 
after the usual time of completing an aca- 
demical course is past. Edmund Stone, 
also, is a case in point to encourage those 
who begin study late. At eighteen years 
of age, he was in the employ of the Duke of 
Argyle, to whom his father w 7 as gardener. 
The Duke one day, finding a copy of New- 
ton's Principia on the grass plat in the gar- 
den, was astonished at hearing the garden- 
er's son claim the book. He immediately 
enquired of him, " Do you understand geo- 
metry and Latin and Newton?" " I know a 
little of them said the young man." " But 
how, enquired the Duke, did you gain this 
knowledge?' Stone replied, " a servant 
taught me ten years since to read. Does 
any one need more than the twenty-four let- 
ters in order to learn every thing else that 
one wishes?" After giving the Duke an 



NEVER TOO LATE TO IMPROVE. 49 

account of the manner in which he had ac- 
quired his learning, he ended by saying, 
" And this, my lord, is what I have done. 
It seems to me we may learn every thing, 
when we know the twenty-four letters of 
the alphabet." 

Knowledge is not only a source of gain, 
but a means of happiness. And if it has 
been neglected at the most suitable time of 
life, it certainly should not be urged as a 
reason for its neglect during life. If it is 
calculated to lighten the burdens of life, and 
confer a measure of comfort not attainable 
without it, surely it can never be too late to 
undertake it. 

There is a great error prevailing, w T hich 
seems to have become a common senti- 
ment, that education beyond bare reading, 
writing, and some knowledge of figures, is 
useful only to professional men. That to 
farmers, merchants, and mechanics, it is al- 
together unnecessary. And as the course 
of life is most generally fixed by the time 
men reach majority, it is deemed needless 
to pursue any branch of education, except 

5 



50 NEVER TOO LATE TO IMPROVE. 

that which has a direct bearing upon the 
business we intend to follow. But this is 
reducing the value of knowledge to a most 
pitiable standard, and degrading that which 
is intended for food to the mind, into a mere 
article of trade and merchandise. Where- 
as, learning derives its principal importance 
from other and far loftier considerations, 
viz. — from its enlarging the intellectual ca- 
pacity, and the influence it has directly or 
remotely upon the happiness of individuals 
and communities in time and eternity. If 
men were mere animals, then their chief 
wisdom would consist in simply making a 
living. But as they possess a lofty nature, 
and immeasurable capacities, it is not good 
for them to be without knowledge. This 
remark is true of all men, in every employ- 
ment, I care not how menial. Many a rich 
gem now lies hid beneath the vast ocean, 
which, if brought up and polished, would 
be of great service to mankind. And there 
can be no question but there are many 
minds buried and hid by circumstances, 
which if properly brought out, would shine 



WANT OF TIME. 51 

astonishingly, and be of vast service to the 
world. Nor has any man a right to say 
that his mind is not of that cast, until he 
has fully tried its powers and tested its ca- 
pacities. 



WANT OF TIME. 

But with some, still another difficulty is 
urged as a bar to compliance with what is 
here recommended. The pursuit of know- 
ledge requires time, and it is deemed im- 
possible for the mechanic, who toils ten 
hours or more in the day, to devote much 
space to the purposes of mental cultivation. 
With such as have been blessed with lei- 
sure, and have been students by profession 
all their days, this difficulty might be deem- 
ed insurmountable. But it is far otherwise 
with me. Manual labor and constant em- 
ployment, I believe, is favorable to intel- 
lectual cultivation, instead of being an in- 
jury. It teaches to value time and not 



52 ECONOMY OF TIME. 

while it away as a thing of nought. The 
student of rare leisure spends much time in 
learning that which is wholly useless, not to 
say injurious. The business man is in no 
danger of thus misapplying his powers or 
wasting precious time. But what is more, 
the man who has been instructed in an art, 
or had the pow r ers of his mind called out 
and developed by exercise in business, is 
thus fitted with quickness of apprehension, 
and a sagacious shrewdness which mightily 
aid in the acquisition of all other knowledge. 
If you wish to find quickness of wit and 
readiness of repartee, you must go among 
the industrious and working classes. This 
activity of mind, doubtless arises more or 
less from habits of physical activity, and 
the healthy flow of blood and spirits, which 
such activity never fails to promote. 

Another circumstance favorable to the 
acquisition of useful knowledge among the 
working classes is — they have learned a se- 
cret which the more affluent have never 
been taught — the economy of time. The 
man accustomed to labor or active business, 



ECONOMY OF TIME. 53 

rises at an early hour — takes no nap at 
noon, and toils on until his day's work is 
finished. Every day is worth a certain 
sum to him, and he as much thinks of 
throwing away his money as his time. 
With these habits let him direct his atten- 
tion to his book and he is sure of success. 
If he therefore wisely divide his time and 
live by rule, there is no ground for fear in 
his case. And who has not some leisure 
hours on hand every day ? Whose time is 
so accurately divided between toil and 
sleep, as to allow no intermediate space for 
mental improvement? I w 7 ill venture to 
say not one such can be found. All that is 
generally needed is a disposition to find 
time for such purposes, and it is at hand. 
There are spare hours in every man's life — 
one or more during each day, which if 
multiplied by the days of the year, would 
amount to many weeks and months. All 
that is necessary is to improve these with 
care, and no man need be a novice in the 
knowledge of science, history, or theology. 
He who cannot command days, must be 

5* 



54 ECONOMY OP TIME. 

content with hours, and in default of these, 
he must prize minutes. A few only in the 
morning, at noon and in the evening, duly 
improved in reading, will in a year, take 
you through a voluminous history. And a 
few years thus having passed, will have 
placed the industrious student a planetary 
distance above the careless and idle. 

1 once knew a case where a number of 
mechanics working in the same shop, 
thirsting for knowledge as well as money, 
found time to pass through several large 
volumes each month. Their plan was this. 
At a certain hour of the day, one of their 
number read a certain chapter, or num- 
ber of pages, whilst the others all silently 
progressed with their work. He then 
gave the book to another, resuming his 
own work, and all again listened to the 
reader. So the book passed around to each 
one in the company, (some eight or ten in 
number,) until all had read their portion. 
The book was then laid aside until the fol- 
lowing day, when the same thing occurred 
again as before. By their reading ten 



NO TIME TO READ. 55 

pages each, one hundred was read per day. 
How long would it take such a company to 
pass through the history of every nation 
that has ever had an existence? This 
course, persevered in for a length of time, 
would exhaust a large library. Yet no one 
ever complained of the loss of time. All 
felt it to be a pleasure which they could illy 
dispense with. And who does not see the 
effect of such a course upon their intellect- 
ual powers. While others were toiling on, 
in the duties of their profession, ignorant 
of every thing but what barely appertained 
to their own handicraft, these were con- 
versing with men of former times, and ob- 
taining a general knowledge of the world. 
" Go and do likewise," all you who com- 
plain of want of time for mental improve- 
ment. 

Do any still urge the fact that they have 
not time to read. They may verily believe 
it, but if they were to argue until they were 
grey-headed, they would not convert me to 
their notions. It would not be difficult to 
portray such so clearly that they would be 



56 NO TIME TO READ. 

every where known. They generally have 
time to attend all public gatherings in times 
of political excitement, public sales, camp 
meetings and singing schools, but they have 
no time to read. They can frequently find 
time to spend whole days at the tippling shop, 
seeing the races, or conversing about poli- 
tical affairs, but they have no time to read. 
Such persons have time to hunt, to fish, to 
learn music and play, or do nothing, but 
they have no time to read. 

Unhappy men, they are generally good 
for nothing — neither of use to the nation, 
to their families, nor themselves. Their 
farms are out of order — shops dirty and 
uninviting, and their fire-sides are uncom- 
fortable. Without energy, public spirit, or 
love of knowledge, they live in obscurity 
and die unwept and unregretted. I need 
not show how little befitting an immortal 
man is such a course, it is too apparent to 
require a remark. 



WANT OF TASTE. 57 



WANT OF TASTE. 

But you answer all this by urging another 
formidable difficulty. A difficulty which 
we admit to be a most serious one, you say 
" you have no taste for study," and the 
hours thus spent of all others, are the most 
unpleasant and irksome. Here is the prin- 
cipal difficulty after all. No man will long 
practice that for which he has no liking. 
Hard work in the nature of things, is not 
easy, and he who is more fond of company, 
a public meeting, or sitting in a dirty bar- 
room, smoking a cigar, and hearing the 
idle gossip of the neighborhood, than perus- 
ing a valuable book, will most likely, soon 
sink to his level, whatever be his talents, 
and remain there during life. 

But men's tastes arise from habit, and 
though not with equal ease ; may be re- 
formed as well as formed. In order to 
eminence in any business or profession, the 
first thing to be acquired, is a taste for it. 
And it is astonishing, how soon such taste 



58 NOTHING GAINED 

may be imbibed, by a little practice. Let a 
young man accustom himself to any course 
of life, for a month or two, and though ever 
so disgraceful to his character, and offensive 
in the eyes of others — to himself it will be 
pleasant and inviting. In like manner let 
him compel his attention to books, during 
his leisure hours, and evenings, for a season, 
and soon, what was an irksome and un- 
pleasant task, will be his greatest pleasure. 
No longer will he have to complain of want 
of taste for literary pursuits, but he will 
perhaps find some need of care, lest a 
fondness for it, lead him to suffer too great 
encroachment upon the hours of business. 
This bar therefore, although a real one, is 
quite easily taken out of the way. And is 
not the object worthy the effort necessary 
to its attainment? Nothing of any value 
is gained without toil. Nor will a studious 
disposition, essential to mental cultivation, 
be possessed by any, unless it be diligently 
acquired. 

Sir Walter Scott thus writes to his son, 
" I cannot too strongly impress upon your 



WITHOUT LABOR. 59 

mind, that labor is the condition which God 
has imposed on us in every station of life* 
There is nothing worth having that can be 
had without it, from the bread which the 
peasant wins by the sweat of his brow, to 
the sports by which the rich man must get 
rid of his ennui. The only difference be- 
twixt them is, that the poor man labors to 
get a dinner to his appetite — the rich man, 
to get an appetite to his dinner. As for 
knowledge, it can no more be planted in 
the human mind without labor, than a field 
of wheat can be produced without the pre- 
vious use of the plough. There is indeed 
this difference, that chance or circumstances 
may cause it, that another shall reap what 
the former sows ; but no man can be de- 
prived whether by accident or misfortune,- 
of the fruits of his own studies ; and the 
liberal and extended acquisition of know- 
ledge, which he makes, are all for his own 
use. Labor, therefore, my dear boy, and 
improve the time. In youth, our steps are 
light, and our minds are ductile, and know- 
ledge is easily laid up. But, if we neglect 
our spring, our summers will be useless and 



60 TASTE FOR STUDY. 

contemptible, our harvest will be chaff, and 
the winter of old age unrespected and deso- 
late." 

Again, " Read, my dear Charles, read, 
and read that which is useful. Man, differs 
from birds and beasts, only because he has 
the means of availing himself of the know- 
ledge acquired by his predecessors. The 
swallow builds the same nest, which its 
father and mother built, and the sparrow 
does not improve by the experience of its 
parents. The son of the learned pig, if it 
had one, would be a mere brute, only fit 
to make bacon of. It is not so with the 
human race. Our ancestors lodged in caves 
and wigwams, where we construct palaces 
for the rich and comfortable dwellings for 
the poor; and why is this, but because our 
eye is enabled to look upon the past, to im- 
prove upon our ancestors improvements, 
and to avoid their errors ? This can only 
be done by studying history, and comparing 
it with passing events." 

There is a natural indolence common to 
our nature, which, fond of listless inaction 
will ever be urging us to lay aside what is 



TASTE FOR STUDY. 61 

painful and laborious and seek that which 
is amusing. This must be overcome before 
any man will be a student. Having this 
out of our way the work will be compara- 
tively easy, study will be a pleasure, and 
a thirst for knowledge being the master 
passion, there will be no difficulty in the 
way, or self denial required. He who has 
cultivated this taste and succeeded in ac- 
quiring this valuable habit is on the high 
road to usefulness and respectability, if not 
to greatness, but he on the contrary, who 
has it not and does not acquire it, will have 
a narrow path to travel through life, and 
will leave an inglorious memorial. Upon 
his tombstone it may be written that he 
was born on one day,and died upon another, 
an honor which the lower animals can share 
with him. A man with fair natural en- 
dowments can generally make himself what 
he chooses to be. Many complain of Provi- 
dence and fortune, for having dealt out 
favours, with a parsimonious and sparing 
hand, when the fault is their own. Had 
they been as diligent and active in the pur- 

6 



62 DEFICIENT IN MEMORY. 

suit of knowledge, as they have of distinc- 
tion in feats of agility, or foolish sports, 
during early life, they would have had but 
little to complain of now. 



DEFICIENT IN MEMORY. 

Not a few complain also of a very treach- 
erous memory, and therefore, deem it use- 
less for them ever to make an effort to gain 
knowledge. This is the old complaint reiter- 
ated, that Providence has denied some, what 
he has so abundantly bestowed upon others, 
a postulate which I have always admitted 
with great caution. There is no question 
but variety as relates to natural endowments 
obtained among mankind. This conclusion 
cannot well be avoided. Yet it is equally 
clear that in most cases, the difference ob- 
served, can be traced to other causes, arising 
in the habits of life and modes of early 
training. The experience of every teacher, 
has no doubt convinced him that the lad 
who had never been accustomed to con a 



BAD MEMORY. 63 

lesson, finds it difficult at his first essay, to 
fix one upon his memory. This difficulty 
remains for some time, until, other and pre- 
viously formed habits are worn off, and his 
mind becomes thoroughly bent to his new 
employment. His memory becomes more 
and more tenacious as he progresses ; the 
more it is taxed, the more are its energies 
developed, until its grasp becomes powerful 
and astonishing, and he who at first was 
quite incapable of retaining the shortest 
primary lessons, now stores away in his 
capacious memory, whole sections, pages, 
and volumes. So that it is evident that 
previous habits, not nature, caused the 
difference between him and his fellow at 
first. He who reads or studies but little, 
generally has a bad memory — so called, 
whilst he who calls its powers into use, and 
constant exercise, is always said to have a 
good one. Confine the arm to a vertical 
position, and keep it so for six months, or a 
year ; then remove the bandage, and try to 
raise it horizontally. You will find it im- 
possible at first, but after a time, when it 



64 LOCATE TRANSACTIONS. 

has had sufficient exercise to restore strength, 
it will act in obedience to the will. 

The same may be said of every power 
we possess. And will any one do such injus- 
tice to himself as to quietly presume that he 
has not so good natural faculties as others, 
until he essays their developement ? Pride 
of character should forbid it. No man 
knows what he can do, until he fairly tries ; 
nor should any one condemn himself to a 
life of stupid ignorance, pleading want of 
capacity, without having fully made the 
effort to avoid so great a disgrace. 

Art may also be used to strengthen recol- 
lection, and make memory tenacious. Not 
choosing to dwell on any system that may 
have been devised, in order to aid this 
faculty, or attribute of mind, allow me barely 
to suggest a plan which I know has been 
serviceable to some. Local connexions and 
circumstances always aid in recollecting facts. 
When you desire to remember a name, you 
connect it with something which easily and 
frequently recurs to the mind, and when the 
latter comes up by accident or design, the 



STRENGTHENING MEMORY. 65 

former generally accompanies it, without the 
least effort. Acting on this principle, he who 
studies history, should frequently have a 
map before him, and by giving the histori- 
cal transaction a location, all that will be 
required to call up the event, will be to let 
the mind revert to the spot where it occurred. 
The student will thus have the double ad- 
vantage of the study of history and geogra- 
phy, at one and the same time. One hour's 
study of history on this plan, will be found 
to realize more permanent advantage, than 
whole days of bare reading. In fact, the 
reading of ancient history without it, will be 
found almost useless, as it will soon be for- 
gotten, or facts so thrown together and 
condensed, as to be of no service whatever. 
And what is more, historical reading having 
the light of geography thrown around it, 
becomes doubly interesting. It not only 
spreads before the mind, the deeds of former 
generations, which, it is vastly important 
for all men to know, but also furnishes a 
view of their varied localities, and the in- 
fluences which gave rise to their actions. 

6* 



66 WANT OF MEMORY. 

This by the way is one of the best modes 
of studying the philosophy of mankind. 

The same principle should also be ob- 
served in the study of the Holy Scriptures. 
National character, place, circumstances of 
the times, and purpose of the writer, well 
understood, will serve to cast much light 
upon almost every portion of Scripture, and 
vastly strengthen our power to recollect it. If 
we desire to remember any particular pas- 
sage, its location on the page should be mark- 
ed, whether near the top or bottom, in which 
of the columns, and what is the first word. 
This will be giving it a location, which re- 
curring to the mind at first, will soon intro- 
duce all that follows. What has been said 
of history and Scripture may be said with 
equal propriety of every other matter of 
study. He who would have a strong 
memory, must act upon the same principle 
with him who seeks a strong and healthy 
physical frame, viz : give it exercise. He 
must call its powers into use, and tax them 
to their full ability of bearing, using all the 
artificial helps with which he is acquainted. 



WANT OF MEANS. 67 

This done for a series of years, or even 
months, will so develop this power, that 
but few complaints wiJl be heard of the 
parsimony of nature's bestowments. I 
believe the worst memories, (so called) are 
always found with those who read and 
study the least. So fully am I persuaded 
of this, that when ever I hear complaint of 
a deficient memory, the immediate pre- 
sumption with me is, that he who makes it, 
is either no student at all, or else a grossly 
careless one. 



WANT OF MEANS. 

To the above difficulties have been some- 
times added, a want of access to the means 
of information. This difficulty was once 
far from being an ideal one. Books were 
few and costly, and the sciences were lock- 
ed up in an unknown language, or so loaded 
with technicalities as to put them beyond 
the reach of the labouring classes ; who 
generally have to work their own way 



68 WANT OF MEANS. 

without teachers. But happily this bar is 
now taken out of the way. The world is 
flooded with books on all subjects, interest- 
ing to men, books in our own language, 
and rendered accessible by their cheapness, 
or placed in public libraries, for the benefit 
of all classes. I need not dwell upon this 
difficulty. It is so frail as to be seen to be 
nothing but an excuse for idleness. The 
country is full of books — and so cheap as 
to come within the reach of all. The money 
spent on the various holidays in the year, 
if expended in books, would soon furnish 
every apprentice with a tolerable library. 
And lectures are given during the long even- 
ings of every year, on almost every subject 
within the range of human science. Some 
are gratuitous and all are cheap. He, there- 
fore, who pleads want of means for intel- 
lectual improvement in these days, may be 
given up as a hopeless case, on whom an 
argument would be wasted. Ignorance was 
once a misfortune, but it is now a crime. I 
speak generally of course, and that there 
are exceptions, by no means militates 



NECESSITY OP KNOWLEDGE. 69 

against the force of the remark. The en- 
terprising will hear me. We live in a 
stirring, active age of the world. All na- 
tions are thrown together as into one com- 
munity, requiring every man to know more 
in order to success in business now, than at 
a prior period. The man who once did 
business in a small village, though he has 
never removed, now finds himself in a city, 
surrounded by a dense and stirring popula- 
tion ; his plans of operation must change 
to meet the change in his circumstances, or 
he will find the younger portion of the com- 
munity taking the trade all out of his 
hands. The readiness of communication 
between distant locations, causing sudden 
fluctuations in the price of commodities, 
requires that a merchant or mechanic 
should know much more now, as to the 
philosophy of trade, than was needed for- 
merly. Want of the knowledge of this fact 
has led to many a disaster in business, 
which a little foresight would have pre- 
vented. But let the eye turn to another 
quarter. 



70 NECESSITY OP KNOWLEDGE, 



INDUCEMENTS. 

In a government like ours, where the 
power is in the hands of the people, nothing 
is more dangerous to liberty than popular 
ignorance. You will sometimes be called 
to decide important questions, involving not 
only the wealth and happiness, but the 
very existence of the government under 
which you live. One vote may cast the 
die, for weal or wo, and be the means of 
entailing on yourselves and your children 
a joyful blessing or a withering curse. 
Every man, therefore, should be conversant 
with his country's history, his country's 
laws, and his country's constitution — who 
has the fearful privilege of deciding her 
fate. Ah ! how few of those who go to 
cast in their votes, think of the fearful 
responsibility resting on them, or the dread- 
ful consequences that may follow. Perhaps 
it would not be going beyond the truth, if it 
were asserted, that more than half of those 
now attached to the political parties which 



INDUCEMENTS. 71 

divide our nation, cannot give a reason for 
their preferences. Some are partizans be- 
cause of prejudices formed against certain 
men, others from the attachment of friend- 
ship; whilst thousands are hoodwinked and 
nose-led by the designing and interested. 
Every man should be able to give a reason 
for his political hopes and fears, as well as 
his religious notions. But the ignorant, 
who never read or think, cannot do this. 
It is a moral impossibility. It certainly, 
therefore, cannot require an argument to 
show that our institutions cannot be safe in 
such hands. Many, who are well aware 
of these facts, and seeing the danger of 
our institutions, pause and inquire what can 
be done? There is but one reply, viz: 
educate the rising generation in what they 
ought to know. Let them be trained up 
to reading, reflection, and morality. This 
done and there need be no fear for our 
country. 

To this inducement may be added, the 
great satisfaction to be derived from in- 
dustry in literary pursuits. In as far as the 



72 THE PLEASURE OF STUDY. 

mind, being immortal, is superior to the 
body, so far are mental enjoyments superior 
to those which are merely sensual. The 
one is low and grovelling, the other high 
and inspiring. The one frequently leads to 
shame and covers the face with blushes, the 
other is always honorable and without fear 
of reproach. Is there no pleasure in read- 
ing history, and thus conversing with 
former generations? Does not the study 
of nature thrill the soul with unspeakable 
delight, as her chambers open their ample 
wonders to our inquiring eyes? Study 
opens a vast field over which reflection and 
fancy can roam and luxuriate without fear 
of satiety. All sensual pleasures, weary and 
cloy the appetite, but those which spring 
from intellectual cultivation, never cease to 
delight. It is said that Dr. Franklin once 
remarked, that " he knew not a more un- 
happy man than the one who could not 
read, and had nothing to do on a rainy 
day." This remark is characteristic of the 
man who is said to have made it, but is as 
true to life as it is eccentric. In fact, I am 



KNOWLEDGE OF NATURE. 73 

at a loss to know how a man in such cir- 
cumstances could enjoy himself at all, un- 
less like many other careless animals, he 
spent the time in slumber, or like the Chi- 
nese, in eating opium. 

It has been said that the bible makes all 
nature vocal, when it would otherwise be 
silent, and its various laws either not known 
at all, or be wholly misunderstood. A 
similar remark may be made in relation to 
the action of science on the material world. 
Every thing is unquestionably created with 
a wise design, and intended to serve some 
useful purpose. But the ignorant can never 
find out their uses and various adaptations. 
The only effect lightning and thunder has 
upon the unlettered savage, is fright and 
dismay. But how very differently these 
agents of nature act upon the better in- 
structed. They are received with gratitude 
as means of purifying the atmosphere, and 
therefore, conducing to the health and hap- 
piness of mankind. The ignorant man 
looks over the face of nature, studded with 
forests and garnished with flowers, with a 

7 



74 YIELDS DELIGHT. 

vacant and unmeaning stare. He sees no 
beauty, and feels no thrilling inspiration, 
because to him it is perfectly incomprehen- 
sible. But the man of science stands a 
charmed spectator of nature's beauty and 
profusion, as he more or less sees the design 
and uses of what is before him. All classes 
would be much more happy in their various 
employments, were they to mingle more 
science with labor, as they would better 
understand their own business, and there- 
fore, have less fear of failures and unfore- 
seen calamities. 

Knowledge moreover, gives influence in 
all states of society. And popularity, 
whether really advantageous or not, with 
all men is more or less desirable. All are 
climbing to it by some one of the various 
ways in which it is deemed accessible. 
This seems to be perfectly natural, nor is it 
to be altogether condemned. There is a 
real satisfaction to be found in the exertion 
of influence over our fellows, in being 
treated with respect and looked up to for 
counsel. Such a position is most command- 



GIVES INFLUENCE. 75 

ing, and may be turned to good advantage. 
That young man who can see in such a 
situation nothing that is desirable, who 
finding himself ignorant and without influ- 
ence, is willing there to remain, not making 
the least effort to gain a worthy standing, 
is already lost to society. He has no ambi- 
tion, and no prospect is before him, but that 
of being a hewer of wood and drawer of 
water to the more enterprising, all the days 
of his life. 

But there is another motive yet, which 
perhaps may be more influential than any 
of the former. Every man is desirous of 
possessing mental energy and intellectual 
strength. We may safely inform him, that 
it is not likely he will ever possess this 
without much reading and close thinking. 
His mind may be naturally good, but it 
needs something to give it a start and fur- 
nish capital on which to act. There must 
be something to excite. What shall it be ? 
Experiment the matter by taking up a 
book and reading the speech of some great 
man, on some question of thrilling interest. 



76 INFLUENCE DESIRABLE. 

I'll vouch for it, that you will not half finish 
it before your mind will be in the highest 
state of excitement And were you then 
to take a pen and attempt composition, 
ideas would be in readiness and words 
would flow in an overwhelming torrent. 
Let it be your habit to occupy every spare 
moment in perusing some useful work, and 
this activity of mind will also become 
habitual, nor will it ever forsake you 
whilst it has any thing to act upon. Mind 
acts upon mind as matter upon matter. Nor 
is it possible to converse by books with 
the mighty intellects of a former, or even 
the present generation, without catching the 
spirit of their inspiration. Reading their 
works provokes to emulation, and makes 
us desire to be like them. Read until you 
get the spirit of reading, until a taste is 
contracted, the gratification of which will 
be more pleasurable than eating when you 
are hungry, or drinking when you are dry. 
Thus will the mind be brought into appro- 
priate and healthy activity upon all subjects, 
which challenge the exercise of its powers, 



READING. 77 

until it becomes accustomed to the loftiest 
efforts of which its energies are capable. 

I am sorry for him who feels no pleasure 
in reading. He dwells in a region of gloom 
and misanthropy, and if he is resolved not 
to use the means which invariably exalt the 
spirits to a healthy and pleasurable flow, 1 
hope he may be suffered to remain alone, 
not being able to find one to covet his 
miserable and inglorious situation. What 
you read, be careful to read well and 
thoroughly; anything worth reading at all, 
is worth reading well. Make every book 
through which you pass, fully your own. 
Get the run of the whole story, so as to be 
able to rehearse it to a friend in your own 
language. The more you talk of what you 
read, the better you will recollect it. By 
persevering in this course for a season, your 
mind will become rich as a storehouse, and 
capacious enough to be continually receiv- 
ing more. 

It may be proper, however, in this con- 
nexion, to caution you as to the books you 
read. I am not about to propose a plan of 
7* 



78 READING FORMS STYLE. 

study — the intended size of this work will 
not allow me to do so. Nor do I now 
speak of the moral character of books. *It 
is desirable to form a good style, that you 
may speak and write with ease and grace. 
This no one will, or can do unless the 
works which he reads are written thus. 
Streams always taste of the minerals through 
which they pass — and man's character gene- 
rally becomes assimilated to that of his 
every-day companions. So is our style 
formed by the models which are most con- 
stantly before us. Read Mr. Wesley's 
works until attachments are formed for the 
man and his mode of thinking and commu- 
nication, and you will write and speak in a 
similar way. It would be the same were 
you to read any other author. 

How important then that you should read 
much to form a style, and that the works 
read should be clear and perspicuous. Our 
tastes undergo a great change after we are 
twenty-five years of age. Anterior to that 
we are usually fond of what is glowing and 
gaudy in style, whether the sentiment is 
strongly developed or not. But every sub- 



EARLY RISING. 79 

sequent year changes the taste, and sense is 
more admired than sound. No book is 
worth reading unless the meaning stares 
you in the face. To be clear in conversa- 
tion, in thinking, and in writing, is what a 
young man should aim at first. If he be a 
student ornament will come quite soon 
enough. Todd's Students' Manual is a 
capital thing for every young man, and I 
here commend it to their attention. No 
sentence that I have seen in it requires to be 
studied to be understood. You should be 
careful then to guard against a bad and 
confused style, by reading such books only 
as are clear and chaste. 

Early rising is essential to successful 
study. No man will love his book much, 
unless he form the habit of being at it early 
in the morning. The practice of some is, 
to do all their reading at night, after work- 
ing hours. Mistaken men. Such an illy 
judged course will be short-lived. The eyes, 
the head, the whole frame will soon feel 
the sad effects of such unphilosophical pro- 
cedure. Headache and want of appetite 



80 READING AND CONVERSATION, 

for food, will be the first natural intimations 
of error. And the unwise youth will soon 
begin to think his studies are injuring his 
health, and lay them aside altogether. If 
this do not occur, he will complain of defi- 
cient memory — as it is well-known that the 
mind is more vigorous and capable of re- 
tention in the early, than in the latter por- 
tions of the day. All great acquisitions of 
knowledge or fortune, have been made by 
men who were accustomed to early rising. 
Nor need any youth dream of either, who 
cannot deny himself an hour of morning 
slumber to gain them. 

Be sure to be a good reader whatever 
else you lack. In that which we are most 
frequently called on to do we should be 
greatest proficients. Make reading a daily 
study, so that if required to read a paragraph 
from a newspaper in company, or if the se- 
cretary of a society, your reading may bring 
you into favourable notice. In some com- 
panies your whole education will be judged 
of by your capabilities in this one matter. 
Study pronunciation also. Men are always 



POLITE ACCOMPLISHMENTS. SI 

deemed more or less ignorant whilst they 
pronounce badly. Watch the best speakers, 
both public and private, and have a diction- 
ary always at hand; and by a little effort, 
care, and watchfulness, you will not be 
afraid to open your mouth any where. At- 
tend to the art of writing also. Education 
is not unfrequently judged of by ability in 
this accomplishment. To write well, with 
correct orthography, is a sure method of 
gaining the esteem and friendship of a cor- 
respondent. These are, therefore, to be 
sought with diligence. 

It is astonishing how much these common 
matters are neglected. The rage now-a- 
days is, to store the mind with Latin and 
Greek, and scraps of other branches of 
learning, which sound large and appear 
showy — to the neglect of other knowledge 
of far more practical importance in every- 
day transactions. All these can be attended 
to, if time and circumstances will permit. 
But these last can be dispensed with where 
those above named cannot A thorough ac- 
quaintance with our own language is to be 



82 POLITE ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 

sought first, with ability to read and speak 
it correctly and fluently, you should also 
write and compose with readiness and ease. 
No man is naturally a ready and good 
writer. Practice alone will enable any man 
to sit down and throw his thoughts together 
with force and beauty on paper. This is 
true of all men,- — talented or not. First 
efforts will always be imperfect and unsatis- 
factory — but regard it not; resolute perse- 
verance in the practice will ensure success. 
You often wonder how editors can throw 
their thoughts together so amusingly, and 
wish you could do the same. The reason 
is they are always at it. Write much, and 
you will learn the secret. A good practice 
is, to write every day a few lines, with 
either pen or pencil. 

In a word, whatever you admire in 
another try to acquire yourself, and always 
avoid what is objectionable and unlovely. 
Read correctly, write fluently, be ready at 
figures and accounts, easy and gentlemanly 
in conversation — and without bad habits, in 
ordinary matters, and you will pass through 



POLITE ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 83 

the world with a better character for learn- 
ing than many who are loaded with the 
honours of colleges. All this you can do 
yourself if you are determined to try. It 
will repay you a hundred fold for every hour 
spent in careful acquisition. Resolve that 
no one shall excel you, and you are safe. 



84 THE IMPORTANCE OF CHARACTER. 



CHAPTER III. 

ON THE IMPORTANCE OF CHARACTER* 

From what has been already said, it is 
hoped you will be prompted to activity in 
using the means which lead to a due de- 
velopement of the intellectual powers. This 
is education of a manly kind, neglected by 
none without great and manifest loss. Yet 
this, properly attended to, will not fit us 
fully for life. To it must be added charac- 
ter, or previous studies will be almost use- 
less. I need not describe it, you know and 
admire it wherever seen. It is found 
among the poor as well as wealthy, the un- 
learned as well as masters of science. With- 
out a good character you will not, you can- 
not succeed in life, whatever your other 
qualifications are. Deficiency in science 
will be witnessed and pitied by your learned 



THE MAN WITHOUT A SHADOW. 85 

friends, but the absence of character will 
be seen by all, and visited by merited con- 
tempt. You may pass into good society 
without much education, but without char- 
acter never. Where unknown, you may 
succeed in making a few acquaintances 
among the respectable, but as your deficien- 
cies come to light, they will forsake you. 
Who has not heard of the man without a 
shadow, and his various efforts to conceal 
his unnatural defects ? Finding it difficult 
to remain where he was known, he fled into 
other lands, where he supposed strangers 
beguiled by his imposing exterior, would 
bid him welcome to good society. But the 
effort was as useless as it was foolish. 
For he dare not walk in company, either by 
sun or moonlight, lest his character should 
be known, and his monstrous deficiency 
become so visible as to scare away his 
companions. The only safe plan, therefore 
left him, and which he hastily adopted, was 
only to go out in the dark ; an expedient, 
no doubt, frequently adopted by many young 
men in large cities, who have wandered 

8 



86 SELF-RESPECT. 

from the way of understanding. In his 
case, however, the effort was a failure, as 
during his walk with an innocent and un- 
suspecting lady, the clouds broke away, 
and the moonbeams came peering through 
the opening, and revealed to the fair one 
that she was walking with * a man with- 
out a shadow.' Startled with alarm, with- 
out allowing time for expostulation she fled, 
and the poor fellow was left to meditate 
alone. 

The allegory needs no explanation, its in- 
tention is too manifest to be mistaken. It 
has been introduced not barely to amuse, 
but to show that all attempts to flee from 
ourselves are vain and fruitless. No man, 
even among strangers, can sustain a forced 
character long. When he least suspects it, 
his true character will appear to his friends, 
and he will find himself forsaken and alone. 
He may blaze and shine for a while, but 
will go out in obscurity. 

He who would be respected must first 
respect himself. It is unreasonable to sup- 
pose others will entertain a high regard for 



SELF-RESPECT. 87 

him who has none for himself. Self respect 
then is one of the first ingredients in worthy- 
character. This, however, must not be 
mistaken for foolish pride, often so ruinous 
to the young. Pride is always offensive to 
God and all good men. It cannot well be 
otherwise. But self-respect is founded in 
the nature and common equality of men. 
God has created all men equal, and all 
should respect themselves because they are 
men. We hold an important relation to 
God and our fellows — to this world and the 
next. What immense power man has or 
may have! If you do not respect your- 
selves for what you are now, reflect on 
what you may be. Each man has a mind 
which may be almost infinitely expanded — 
has a power of doing good, if the energies 
possessed be rightly directed, only to be 
measured by Him who conferred it. 

Without self-respect these powers will 
never be cultivated — never developed or 
applied to any useful purpose. The man 
who does not esteem himself, will never re- 
ceive it from others. You cannot respect 



88 SELF-RESPECT. 

him whom you know to be careless of him- 
self. What we seek in others, we should 
not be without. You may laugh at the 
man who amuses you with boyish tricks, 
or foolish feats of skill in that which can be 
of no possible use to him or others, but in 
your heart you despise him. You already 
read his future history, and foresee the dis- 
graceful termination of his career. Self- 
respect wall make you wary as to company, 
select in your associations, and careful in 
the formation of habits. 

There is also a dignity in manners which 
is an essential element of character. Some 
men galvanize their muscles into a grin, 
and affect to laugh at every thing. The 
object of this is to please, but the effect is 
wholly of a different character. It invaria- 
bly makes a man look childish in the eyes 
of all wise persons. This by all means 
should be avoided. Cheerfulness is always 
indispensable, and never fails to adorn the 
best society, but loud laughing and continu- 
al trifling destroys all dignity. The clown 
of a public show may attract much atten- 



SELF-RESPECT. 89 

tion and receive the highest applause, but 
he is heartily despised after all. Sober 
dignity, good sense, and ease of manners in 
company, are ever to be regarded as essen- 
tial to enduring reputation. 

Personal appearance, though of less con- 
sequence than other accomplishments, is 
not to be wholly disregarded. You always 
feel more regard for a stranger well clad 
and neat in his apparel, than for one whose 
appearance is disgusting. A dog will not 
snap at him half so readily. While you 
should guard against being a man of fashion, 
all men will condemn you for being a sloven. 
Cleanliness and neatness is becoming in all, 
but more especially in the young. Always 
appear the gentleman in dress and in dignity 
of deportment. Show that you live well at 
home, nor disgrace your mother and sisters. 
By such a course, all men will be compelled 
to respect you whatever is your situation in 
life. Respect from others, is not to be 
lightly esteemed. Desire for this is a sure 
index of future character and standing^ 
Politeness should never be dispensed with, 

8* 



90 SFLF-RESPECT. 

even among every day companions, as the 
indulgence of improper habits soon makes 
them permanent. 

This, however, will not cause you to 
struggle for another and higher rank. Nor 
will it induce you to seek release from la- 
bor. No man is or ought to be more re- 
spected than the one who daily toils for his 
bread. The social scale in this day may 
be somewhat out of order, but it will come 
right hereafter. The industrious classes 
are the only ones who can set it right. 
Gentlemen, so called, can never. A man 
maybe a true nobleman any where — in any 
office or employment. If laboring men are 
not respected, it is because they do not re- 
spect themselves. It is the large soul that 
forms the great man, in whatever station 
found. A man by accident may attain an 
elevation, but if it be unnatural to him, he 
must of necessity come down. But he who, 
by respecting himself and the exertion of 
his energies — by exercise of his higher 
powers becomes elevated, there he remains, 
as in a natural element. No change of 



RESPECT FOR OTHERS. 91 

business, of outward fortune or political 
promotion can do this for him — it is his 
own work, aided by the blessing of God. 
Self-respect will teach you not to stoop, or 
veer from a right course to court the ap- 
plause of the vulgar. Your course should 
be one and unchangeable. If the good and 
virtuous respect you, regard not the clamour 
of the foolish. 

But self-respect never made a man 
haughty and scornful. Respect for others 
is one of its important elements. It has 
ever been true, " that with what measure 
ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.'' 
The same reason which shows the impor- 
tance of self-respect, argues the necessity 
of rendering it to others. The true dignity 
of every man is in the fact that he is a man. 
Not because he is rich, or well dressed, or 
is heir to a throne. The query is — is he a 
man belonging to our species — has he a mind 
that must live forever 1 Does he act well 
his part in the station in which Providence 
has placed him 1 if so, we are bound to re- 
spect him. Even the wretched, made so 



92 MORALITY AND RELIGION. 

by their own wilful misdeeds, maybe pitied, 
but never should be despised. I never 
laugh at a staggering drunkard, though I 
often weep for him, because I feel that he 
is a man, though in ruins, one for whom Christ 
died, and for whose benefit the vast creation, 
sun, moon and stars, clouds and seasons were 
ordained. Can I therefore despise him 1 
The fear I have for Him who created him, 
and my own feelings will not allow it. In 
respecting him, I cherish and fan the flame 
of self-respect. 

Morality and Religion are essential to 
good character. I put these terms together 
for the reason that they are united by God 
and nature. I believe it impossible to sepa- 
rate them without destroying both. There 
may be a sort of morality without the sanc- 
tions of religion, but it illy deserves the 
name. It may be heathen, but certainly 
cannot be Christian morality. The mor- 
ality of Socrates and Plato was not that of 
St. Paul. Nor is the morality of a modern 
free-thinker or semi-believer, worthy the 
name of Christian. It must be baptized in 



MORALITY AND RELIGION. 93 

the name of the Father, the Son, and the 
Holy Ghost, before it will be endued with 
power to forgive enemies, and those who 
persecute and evil entreat. Revenge was 
a virtue with heathen moralists, nor is it far 
otherwise with bare moralists now. Christ- 
ian morality, however, is of a wholly differ- 
ent character. 

It is not, however, my intention to preach 
a long sermon to those who may read these 
sheets, on the subject of religion, yet I do wish 
to impress the fact on the mind of every 
youth, that religion ought to be his first 
business. And in this I am only repeating 
the instruction furnished them by the Sa- 
viour. * Seek first the kingdom of God and 
his righteousness, and all these things (tem- 
poral good) shall be added.' The nature of 
religion, I certainly need not pause to ex- 
plain. In a country like this, where churches 
are so numerous, and the means of grace 
accessible to all, there cannot be any ne- 
cessary darkness on this question. Char- 
acter and standing, based on religion, ' pure 
and undefiled before God and the Father,' 



94 BENEFITS OF EARLY PIETY. 

is always worthy and permanent. The 
heart being renewed, and the affections run- 
ning in a right channel, will be almost sure 
to conduct to honor and usefulness — happi- 
ness and peace. The foundation thus laid 
being strong, the superstructure reared upon 
it will not be likely to crumble down by- 
age, or yield to opposing pow r ers. Good 
moral character commences in the fear of 
God, repentance of sin, and firm resolutions 
of rectitude, to be maintained during life, 
and is carried out and effectuated by atten- 
tion to a regular course of religious duty. 
This will establish manly principles, give a 
manly bearing to the whole deportment of 
life, and effectually cure and destroy those 
foolish tastes which lead so many young 
persons to ruin. Religion in early life, also 
throws into good society, and gives a taste 
for what is honorable, virtuous, and of good 
report. 

Religion, vital and saving, is important to 
all, in every period of life. The bible, con- 
science, and the common sense of mankind, 
all unitedly declare this. Yet is it more es- 



ATTENTION TO CHURCH. 95 

pecially necessary to those who are forming 
a character which is to cleave to them 
throughout life. But few arrive at middle 
age, or advanced years, but have to regret 
some youthful folly which they could wish 
were blotted from the page of their history. 
To do this now is quite impossible. It 
might have been avoided once, but cannot 
now be erased. Many also contract habits 
and form tastes, which are matters of long 
and mournful regret afterwards. Early 
piety, is a safeguard against these. It leads 
into new society, and saves from that which 
is vicious. It saves from many temptations 
and snares, into which the careless and ir- 
religious are sure to fall. So that he who 
embraces religion early, is much more likely 
to be steadfast in his profession, than the 
one who defers so important a matter, to a 
more advanced period. The former has 
but few temptations compared to the latter, 
his life therefore is much more tranquil, his 
course more steady, and his end more peace- 
ful. 

Regular habitual attention to religious 



96 BENEFITS OF A FIRM FAITH. 

worship, is in this community indispensable 
to moral character and standing. Do any 
wish to test the truth of this remark — the 
means are at hand. Compare the character 
and standing of those in your acquaintance 
who do, and such as do not frequent a place 
of worship. Mark the difference between 
them. Whether a man be strictly religious 
or not, his character and influence, as a 
man, and a citizen, will be much bettered 
by steady regular church going habits. So 
obvious is this fact to common observation, 
that it requires no more than a mere state- 
ment, to be convincing. 

Nothing is more essential to a moral and 
religious life, than a firm and unshaken faith 
in the verities of divine revelation, and the 
solemnities of a final judgment. Only let a 
sense of these, be done away from the 
human mind, and all moral restraint of any 
force or value is gone with them. And 
fallen man urged forward by the force of a 
reckless depravity, loses sight of future 
acountability for his conduct, and gives 
himself wholly to the enjoyments of the 



MAN A RELIGIOUS BEING. 97 

present. Saying to his soul, take pleasure, 
eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow 
shall be as this day, and much more abund- 
ant in sensual gratification. 

It would not be difficult to show that 
belief in the essential doctrines of religion, 
is indispensable to the well being of society 
as well as the happiness and temporal pros- 
perity of individuals. All human experi- 
ence declares this truth, and the providence 
of God fully confirms the declaration. Every 
nation has had its religion, both doctrinal 
and practical, and in proportion to its purity 
has been the morality and happiness of the 
people. Says a popular historian, " Man 
has been termed a religious being, because 
in every age and among all people, we 
discover a reverence and awe of the divine 
Being, an homage paid to Him, and an 
open profession of entire dependence upon 
Him, in all their undertakings and necessi- 
ties — in all their adversities and dangers. 
Incapable themselves to penetrate futurity, 
and to ascertain events in their own favor, 
we find them intent on consulting the 

9 



98 THIS A CHRISTIAN COUNTRY. 

divinity, by oracles and other methods of a 
like nature, and to merit His protection, by 
prayers, vows and offerings." 

The country in which we live, is called 
a Christian country, not because all the 
inhabitants are christians — would to God 
they were, — but because all our laws and 
institutions are based upon Christianity. 
Can that man therefore, have a good repu- 
tation among his fellows, who pays no 
regard to that, on which so much reliance 
has been, and is still placed. None but 
atheists can esteem him who indulges no 
reverence for the word of God, who has 
none of his fear before his eyes. He who 
chooses a course of irreligion, and prefers 
skepticism to a reverent faith in the holy 
Scriptures, generally if not always, chooses 
early infamy, if not an early grave. Refer- 
ence could be easily had to numerous facts 
in proof of this, but I forbear to adduce 
them. " A word to the wise" is said to be 
sufficient. " The prudent man foreseeth the 
evil and hideth himself," while the foolish 
pass on and are punished." 



HAPPINESS OF RELIGION. 99 

Infidelity and disbelief are no recom- 
mendation to any man. But it is especially 
disgusting, when it appears in the young. 
Whenever it is seen in such, there is always 
connected with it a bold face, disrespect for 
superiors in age and acquirements, and a 
contempt for such usages, as general society 
deems important and sacred. How un- 
lovely do such things make a young man 
appear. What a bad passport to the esteem 
and good will of those who are capable of 
doing him more good than all others. 

Nor does religion debar from enjoyment. 
None are so happy and contented as the 
truly good. Storms may beat without, but 
"a contented mind is a continual feast." 
Conscious guilt, and peace, are incompatible. 
They cannot exist, together, being opposites ; 
two antagonist ingredients in chemistry 
thrown together, effervesce until one over- 
comes the other. Conscience, God's deputy 
in the human bosom, must be subdued be- 
fore the guilty man can have inward calm- 
ness. But the devoted and pious, walking 
with nature and with God, verily feel 



100 ENERGY OF CHARACTER 

"The day glides sweetly o'er their heads 
Made up of innocence and love." 

This is not fancy but fact, not fable, but 
reality. The whole community will sus- 
tain me in asserting that nothing throws 
such a charm around the young, as early 
piety. It gives polish to the loftiest intellect, 
lustre to natural beauty, and is a necessary 
finish to the best education. It must there- 
fore be an important ingredient in reputation 
not to be neglected with impunity. 

Energy and decision^ is also essential to 
desirable character. Weakness of purpose 
and constant vacillation is always attended 
with non-success and followed by contempt. 
This may be, to a certain extent, natural 
and constitutional with some, but in most 
cases, is doubtless the result of habit. I 
need not tell you that the man of no de- 
cision of character, whose business and 
purposes for life, like the fickle Avinds are 
ever changing — scarcely ever succeeds. 
Observation has long since taught you this. 
The student who enters upon one branch of 
science, or course of study, and ere he is 



AND PURPOSE. 101 

half through abandons it for another, to 
which his changing fancy may lead, never 
excels in any. He who starts in a business 
and because he meets with a few difficulties 
Jays it aside, removes his residence and 
commences another, seldom makes a fortune. 
Life is too short to admit of our learning 
everything, desirable to know, or pursuing 
every business promising a reward to in- 
dustry. Every man must therefore select 
his course, fix his object, and then pursue 
the path leading to it, with undeviating 
firmness and undying industry. 

There are temptations enough in every 
pursuit to lead an unstable mind, from its 
legitimate course. It is so in the pursuit of 
knowledge, the cares of business, and the 
practice of religion. Man was not intended 
to waste his energies in idleness, and he 
who seeks pleasure, need not dream of 
fame. The one who covets it must trim his 
sails to every breeze, from whatever quarter, 
and of consequence his course must be an 
indefinite and zigzag one. He on the con- 
trary who determines to bless the world 

9* 



102 DR. FRANKLIN. 

and himself too, heeds but little the careering 
winds of popular fashion, and having his 
course fixed, plies the oar of personal appli- 
cation, and overcomes every obstacle that 
fortune seemed to throw in his way, until 
he astonishes both his friends and himself. 
He has developed in himself powers which 
at first he was wholly unconscious of pos- 
sessing. He has gained points which he 
formerly supposed could only be reached 
by the loftiest intellects, aided by the most 
advantageous circumstances. 

Dr. Franklin is a case in point. He was 
a specimen of firmness and decision of 
character from his early boyhood. Fortune 
did not favor him half so much as resolu- 
tion. A man, who like him, fixes his course 
in wisdom, and then prefers living upon 
saw dust puddings, rather than throw away 
his principles, to please a junto of his pre- 
tended friends or real patrons, need not fear 
the frowns of fortune. We may form some 
idea of his undying perseverance and firm- 
ness of purpose in the fact, that when at- 
tempting to unlock a hidden chamber of 



FIRMNESS. 103 

science, he daringly called fire from the 
clouds, duly to temper and take the rust 
from his key. Tempting fashions and 
foolish amusements were no doubt popular 
in his dav as well as in ours. Inducements 
were held out to betray young men into 
improprieties, and lead them to abandon 
their purposed course of life. In his case, 
however, they were happily unsuccessful. 
Yet young men in these days of rapid 
improvement think they have grown wiser 
than their ancestors, and hope to be great 
by treading in the seductive paths of fashion 
and folly. Mistaken men — they will soon 
find to their mortification and fruitless 
regret that they have made a serious mis- 
calculation. Figs will not grow from 
thistles, nor character and standing from a 
course of thoughtless folly. Character so 
gained, if it be allowed the name, is as 
unlovely in the eyes of the truly wise, as it 
is painful and troublesome to its possessor. 
Firmness and decision of purpose is con- 
spicuous as a predominant quality of mind, 
in every man who has distinguished him- 



104 DECISION. 

self in the world's history. History, both 
sacred and profane, pays a full tribute to 
the truth of this remark. Noah stood 
almost alone in his righteous course, in the 
midst of a world of wickedness. Moses 
had the courage to take a most singular 
course, and dared to tread upon the tempt- 
ing honors of royalty. Daniel pursued 
undeviatingly the pious tenor of his way, 
in the very teeth of a royal decree, that con- 
signed him to the most fearful sepulchre 
ever opened to man. And St. Paul has 
perhaps never been equalled for the pre- 
dominance of this excellent quality of mind. 
Killed he might have been, but scared or 
turned aside he never was. This was be- 
yond the power of friends or foes. The 
former essayed it by boding prophecies and 
tears at Cesarea ; the latter, by throwing 
dust in the air at Ephesus. But all was in 
vain, the undying firmness of the Apostle 
was not in the least shaken by it all. 

The same unyielding disposition has cha- 
racterized every distinguished man who 
has lived since. We are indebted to this 



EXAMPLES. 105 

same spirit in Martin Luther for the Refor- 
mation and Protestantism. And permit me 
to say, that this spirit which dwelt so emi- 
nently in Luther, must soon be found in 
American Protestants, or some of the worst 
evils of the dark ages will ere long be vis- 
ited upon us. Columbus had to overcome 
a world of difficulty, in order to carry out 
his cherished schemes of adventurous dis- 
covery. Hundreds of men would have 
shrunk from the attempt, though encour- 
aged with abundance of proffered facilities. 
Yet solitary and alone, by the might of his 
own energy he conquered popular opposi- 
tion, and fainted not under the withering 
influence of royal apathy. A new world 
has rewarded his resolute industry, nor shall 
his name perish while the sun endures. 

Your first point is to become intelligent, 
so as to discern a right from a wrong course. 
This may be attained by reading history 
and biography, together with close observa- 
tion of men and things about you. Living 
men are a good and profitable study. Mark 
their rise, progress, business, mode of life, 



106 HARD TOIL IS USEFUL. 

habits, tempers, standing, and all attending 
circumstances. This over, choose your own 
course, ever bearing in mind, that like 
causes produce similar effects, all other 
things being equal. Settling it in your 
mind as an eternal principle, that nothing is 
to be gained without labor. Never expect 
fortune to do aught that you should do 
yourselves. Then having laid your course, 
like the mariner upon the trackless deep, 
fix your eye upon the pole star, and dont 
forget your reckoning. Your bark may be 
a slow sailer, and at first left far behind — 
yet while others may be wrecked, you shall 
reach the port in safety and triumph. The 
race is not always to the swift, nor the battle 
won by the strong. Never should any be 
discouraged, because others seem naturally 
endowed with more firmness and decision 
than they. Habits are easily formed, either 
of weakness, or strength of vice or virtue. 
Courage and the power of endurance are 
the product of custom as well as nature. 
You may make yourself effeminate and 
indolent, or brave and persevering. "Man- 



EMPLOYMENT NECESSARY. 107 

ual labor," says an excellent author, * is a 
school in which men are placed to get en- 
ergy of purpose and character ; a vastly 
more important endowment than all the 
learning of all the schools. They are placed, 
indeed, under hard masters, physical suffer- 
ing, and wants, the power of fearful ele- 
ments, and the vicissitudes of all human 
things ; but these stern teachers do a work 
which no compassionate indulgent friend 
could do for us; and true wisdom will bless 
Providence for their sharp ministry. I have 
great faith in hard work. I believe that 
difficulties are more important to the hu- 
man mind than what we call assistances. 
Work we all must, if we mean to bring out 
and perfect our nature. No business or 
study, which does not present obstacles, 
tasking to the full the intellect and the will 
is worthy of a man. I do not then desire 
to release the laborer from toil. This is not 
the elevation to be sought for him. Manual 
labor is a great good ; but, in so saying I 
must be understood to speak of labor in its 
just proportion. It is not good when made 



108 EMPLOYMENT NECESSARY. 

the sole work of life. In excess it does 
great harm. It must be joined with higher 
means of improvement, or it degrades in- 
stead of exalting. Man has a various 
nature, which requires a variety of occu- 
pation and discipline for its growth. Study, 
meditation, society and relaxation, should 
be mixed up with physical toils. Life 
should be an alternation of employments, 
so diversified as to call the whole man into 
action." 

The idle man at any age was never 
happy. It is contrary to a law of his crea- 
tor, that he should be. Many hope for 
wealth and the means to support them in 
inactivity. This is all wrong. Why not 
hope and toil for means of usefulness.- 
The reason why so many aged persons lose- 
their faculties so soon, is because they are 
not kept in exercise. They rust for want 
of employment. The most miserable, are 
those who have nothing to do. The mind 
and body both should be employed to the 
last, if we wish to keep them vigorous. 
Man can be trained and accustomed to a I- 



NOTHING GAINED WITHOUT TOIL. 109 

most any thing. Bonaparte was born and 
trained in the heat of revolution and war. 
A military life was then and there, almost 
the only road to distinction. He caught 
the inspiration of the times, and by dint of 
firmness and perseverance became emi- 
nent. It may, or may not have been na- 
tural to him. Had he been the son of a 
great farmer, and spent his youth in per- 
forming the duties of retired life, perhaps 
he would not have been such a prodigy of 
decision and firmness. What the world in 
his case has, therefore, called a natural en- 
dowment, may have been the result of cir- 
cumstances only. Many a man has laid 
the flattering unction to his soul, that he 
possessed certain talents, friends have flat- 
tered him into a belief that these must 
create for him certain distinction in a future 
day ; but alas, for lack of diligence in their 
development, all has ended in disappoint- 
ment. In cases where nature has seemed 
most parsimonious, industry and applica- 
tion has created distinction. Most men rise 
because they will rise — labor is every thing 
10 



110 HONESTY*. 

to the young, and fortune is generally an 
idle word much in use, but seldom under- 
stood. 

Honesty and unyielding integrity in 
all transactions — be they large and there- 
fore publicly known — or so small as never 
to come to the light of public observation, is 
one of the most important attributes of cha- 
racter, and never dispensed with without 
manifest loss. No reproach so effectually 
and completely blasts and ruins a man's 
reputation as being called a rogue and 
cheat. Better be poor all the days of your 
life, with the consciousness of stern recti- 
tude in principle and practice, than rich as 
Croesus — with the guilty reflection that 
wealth was improperly accumulated. It is 
bad enough to be called a rogue, and for- 
ever branded in society as a dishonest man, 
but it is infinitely worse to feel the continual 
upbraidings of an inward guiltiness which 
allows the spirit no repose either by night 
or day. A man may flee from the welt 
aimed shafts of others — and in his moments 
of domestic retirement amidst his family 



HONESTY. Ill 

and friends find comfort provided he be in- 
nocent, but if guilty in vain may he attempt 
to escape from the reprovings of his own 
conscience. Matters may also be so man- 
aged, that others may not be able to detect 
a dereliction from a course of integrity, and 
we may retire with some honor from the 
place of trade ; but there is no comfort — 
except to the innocent ; God and our own 
souls know if others do not, and this is suf- 
ficient to bar from all enjoyment. The 
open countenance, and manly bearing — re- 
sults of innocency — are gone. The money 
taken from an employer's desk may never 
be missed, but the fear that it will — the 
dread of detection, will create a burning 
sensation — quenching forever the flame of 
joy which was wont to light up the counte- 
nance, and fill with continual trepidation, 
utterly incompatible with peace of mind. 
Other men may never know the depth of 
moral turpitude into which such an one has 
fallen, but it is enough that he knows it him- 
self and dreads its fearful consequences. 
Self-respect is a wall of protection to in- 



112 GUILT OF ONE OFFENCE. 

nocency. But one dishonest act, however 
trifling, weakens, and two or three destroy 
it forever. It matters but little where the 
opinions of society place a man, if he knows 
himself to be numbered with the dishonest 
and vulgar. The way is prepared to every 
species of crime, no matter how degrading. 
No man can be a gentleman after having 
lost self-respect. Thousands are annually 
ruined by not heeding the first step in a 
downward passage. The first guilty act 
relaxes the stern principle of integrity, dis- 
orders the whole moral machinery, and the 
man is in ruins without being aware of his 
condition. He is then left a prey to the 
fierce anarchy of every unruly passion — 
and the wild control of all those depravities 
which agitate and deform poor human 
nature. 

It is my object to impress upon your 
minds in the outset of your career that the 
sin of dishonesty is not to be measured by 
the magnitude of its gains ; this principle of 
judgment has obtained far too extensively 
among men, and has doubtless misled 



DISHONESTY RUINOUS. 113 

many. " He that offendeth in one point is 
guilty of all" — is the scriptural and only 
true rule in the case ; the act of crossing the 
line marking the difference between honesty 
and dishonesty— not the distance travelled 
afterwards — is what constitutes the chief 
criminality. The point of time in which 
principle yielded to temptation was the 
most important one, because the work of 
degradation and ruin then commenced ; the 
moral principles then gave way — whether 
the resulting gain was a penny or a thou- 
sand pounds. And if the circumstances 
come to the light of public notoriety, com- 
munity will award the heaviest condemna- 
tion to the seemingly smaller offence, be- 
cause the temptation was less. In this they 
are right, as the moral depravity is certain- 
ly the most apparent. 

We always despise the highwayman, but 
are ever wont to deem him the worst who 
commits murder under circumstances af- 
fording the least prospect of gain, — rightly 
judging that there depravity has done its 
most perfect work. On the same principle 

10* 



114 DISHONESTY RUINOUS. 

he who cheats another out of a small sum, 
is supposed to possess a meaner soul than 
the one who plays the rogue for a higher 
prize. In both cases, however, vileness 
will be their ruin, " and their sins will find 
them out." 

Whether it be right or wrong it cannot 
be disputed that community will retain the 
remembrance of one mean or wicked act, 
while scores of virtuous and praise-worthy 
deeds are forgotten altogether; it is so in 
savage and civilized life. " He once told a 
lie," is with an Indian a sufficient reason 
for refusing to credit him forever after. We 
are much more apt to remember the stormy 
than the clear day — the ugly than the beau- 
tiful face. Perhaps the reason is, because 
they are unnatural or unexpected, and 
therefore leave the deeper impression. — 
Every man's honor should be stainless and 
without suspicion; one blot upon reputa- 
tion, like a scar in the flesh, will be carried 
with you to the grave. 

He therefore, who covets worthy reputa- 
tion, must not tamper with either large or 



HONESTY THE BEST POLICY. 115 

small temptations. His only safety is not to 
touch, taste or handle. In buying or sel- 
ling, to speak truth only, in the integrity of 
his heart, and in the sight of God his Judge, 
is the only safe course. If he could make 
himself rich by a false representation, he is 
better, far better without it. The true se- 
cret of successful resistance of temptation 
in this, as in all other cases, is not to indulge 
or give a moment's place to dishonorable 
thoughts and suggestions. Nor can any one 
long pursue this course without its being 
known to his employers or those who trade 
with him. The eyes of community are 
soon turned upon him as a trust-worthy man 
of honour, and his very word carries as 
much — nay more, security along with it, 
than the signature and security which is ex- 
acted of other men. This, you will say, is 
an argument derived from selfishness. I 
admit it, and in so doing, willingly pay a 
tribute to the force and power of this prin- 
ciple. Selfishness is one of those principles 
which mightily aid in preserving the peace 
of the world, and contributing to the happi- 



116 SELFISHNESS. 

ness of mankind. Nations respect each other 
because they hope to derive gain from 
the maintenance of peaceful relationship. 
The employer and employed are bound to 
each other by the same principle of personal 
advantage — which, carried out as it is, into 
all the ramifications of society, shows it to 
be a providential arrangement for the com- 
mon good. Every man is and should be in- 
fluenced in his conduct, by the effect his 
own course will produce upon himself — 
what opinion the world will form of his char- 
acter. I admit that the fear of Divine dis- 
pleasure and the hope of Divine favor, are 
much loftier principles of action. But, 
though it be a humiliating view of poor fal- 
len humanity, which fully confirms the re- 
presentation given of it in the Holy Scrip- 
tures, it must be admitted that selfishness 
with the multitude exerts a much more po- 
tent influence than the declared will of God, 
or the approaching retributions of the last 
day. If there were no other proof of a 
common depravity resting upon all our spe- 
cies, this of itself is sufficient to show the 



ECONOMY. 117 

grievous state of revolt from divine control, 
in which society exists. The query seldom 
comes up — what is the pleasure of Him who 
made and sustains me, but what opinions 
will men form of my conduct, and how will 
it affect other transactions through life? 
The trite maxim that ' honesty is the best 
policy,' is frequently powerfully influential 
for good to society, where the fear of God 
has little or no influence. The hope is how- 
ever indulged, that those who condescend 
to read these pages, will 'seek first the king- 
dom of God and his righteousness,' to which 
they have been previously recommended, 
that both principles may have their appro- 
priate influence in the formation of their 
character, and wise direction of their lives. 
But few, however, in the ordinary walks 
of life, will for any length of time, maintain 
strict honesty and integrity of character, 
without economy. Could we investigate 
the life and doings of the veriest outlaw ex- 
isting, whose sole occupation is highway 
robbery and murder, it would be found, I 
verily believe, that he commenced a dishon- 



118 EXPENSE OF FASHION. 

est course of life to meet the demands of 
habitual profligacy of expenditure. I doubt 
whether any thing is more dangerous to a 
man's whole character, than careless im- 
providence in early life. The mechanic, 
clerk, or tradesman, wishes to ape the gen- 
tleman. His coat must be as fine and fash- 
ionable — his house and furniture must cor- 
respond with his appearance in the street — 
in a word, he must maintain appearances 
in a style equal to those about him. But 
his income is moderate, and will not justify 
it. It is sufficient for the necessaries and 
comforts of life, but not for its gaieties and 
superfluities. What is to be done — style 
must not be curtailed, let the consequences 
be what they may. Peculation and down- 
right dishonesty is resorted to, to save from 
open failure and dreaded disgrace. How 
much better to have never plunged into such 
a course of life as to involve so fearful an 
alternative. Everv man should live within 
his means, and if possible, save a little to 
serve as his support and maintenance during 
sickness and times of revulsion in trade. 



CARE for little things. 119 

Without such a prudent carefulness, he 
will find himself in serious difficulties, 
and be compelled to ask aid from his 
neighbors, more than once in his life time. 
The money foolishly spent by most persons 
before they reach their twenty-fifth year, if 
properly saved, would serve to set them up 
in profitable business. What must be the 
regret, therefore of such, when a few years 
have furnished them with sufficient discre- 
tion to see their former errors? But unfor- 
tunately they see it too late. Half of life 
is past, their earnings have been transferred 
to other hands, and what is worse than all, 
in too many cases, habits of useless expen- 
diture are formed, which cleave to them 
like their shadow during life. 

It was the saying of a wise man, ' take 
care of the pennies and the dollars will take 
care of themselves.' Parents themselves 
are apt to teach, and children do not forget 
the lesson, that pennies and sixpences are 
of but little account. Rivers are composed 
of drops — the tree grows from an acorn or 
a small seed. Throughout nature, Divine 



120 EXPENSES. 

Providence has instructed us to regard little 
matters as worthy of notice. And he who, 
reckless of reason, nature, and the cautions 
of friendship, improvidently dashes into a 
course of prodigal expenditure, will most 
probably see the time when he will know 
the value of little things, as they will con- 
stitute all his wealth. He who would care- 
fully save his earnings, and avoid spending 
every thing as fast as it is acquired, will 
have to look well to his associations and 
habits. If he accustom himself to attend 
balls and parties of fashion — to be in com- 
pany almost every evening, in vain may he 
hope ever to save a dollar beyond present 
wants. His income may increase, but the 
demand for its expenditure will proportion- 
ately enlarge. By skill and industry he may 
manage to preserve an even balance for a 
few years, but unforseen circumstances 
will throw him behind hand, while the score 
will go on accumulating against him. At 
first he will save himself from disgrace by 
borrowing of a friend, and apply the whole 
force of his ingenuity to keep up appear- 



KINDNESS. 121 

ances, but it is all vain, there are too many 
leaks, no one of which can be stopped with- 
out an acknowledgment of his pecuniary 
disabilities. He therefore suffers matters to 
proceed to a crisis, and sinks at once from 
observation, perhaps to rise no more forever. 
How many such unfortunate wrecks now 
line the borders of fashionable life, who, had 
they begun right and taken the honorable 
course of self-denial and economy, would 
have been ornaments to society — living in 
respectable competence, if not affluence. 

Kindness and good nature, in social in- 
tercourse, vastly contributes to character 
and happiness in life. You doubtless know 
many, who in various respects are excellent 
men. Their moral standing As citizens is 
without reproach, and their lives are so re- 
gular as to gather about them a most excel- 
lent moral influence. Yet, although you 
entertain for them a marked respect, you 
cannot love them. They seem to live alone 
in the heart of a dense population. If they 
are men of science, there is such an unsocial 
moroseness about them, that they seem to 

11 



122 KINDNESS. 

communicate none of their light to others* 
Are they men of business, you are not fond 
of trading with them — or if they are reli- 
gious, you are not disposed to question their 
piety — but it wins not, there is such a sour, 
gloominess about it, that to you it holds out 
no invitation. I have no doubt that strong 
prejudices unfavorable to religion in gene- 
ra], have been formed, and many have per- 
ished from the way, because of the ambigu- 
ous and unintelligible signals that such men 
have held out. 

Such you may respect for their many 
virtues, but love them you cannot. It is 
contrary to a law of your nature, which 
you find it difficult to control. Be careful 
then, that what is unlovely in others do not 
cleave to you, lest you form the same char- 
acter ere you are aware. Habits either of 
feeling or action are soon fixed. A severe, 
morose, and unkind temper, or a kind and 
amiable one, is a matter of cultivation, as 
well as of nature. It is for each one to say 
whether he will have many or few friends — 
whether he will be loved or hated, held to, 



MANLINESS. 123 

or despised. No man should ever forget 
that it is now as true as it ever was, * that 
he who would have friends, must show him- 
self friendly' — a maxim as wise as it is di- 
vine, which should never lose its influence 
over us. 

Let me not be misunderstood however. 
I would not have you sacrifice principle for 
the sake of friendship. You are always to 
preserve a manly dignity in the acquisition 
of social dispositions and habits. Losing 
sight of this, you will miss your aim and fall 
into contempt. Some there are, who, seeing 
the great value of social kindness as an at- 
tribute of character, attempt its attainment 
without duly understanding its nature, and 
render themselves ridiculous in the eyes of 
all, by bowing, scraping, and assenting to 
every opinion of their fellows, whether 
right or wrong. Thus evincing that they 
have no minds of their own to rely upon, — 
and o what is still worse, that they are guided 
by no fixed principles of action or opinion. 
Whilst this is to be avoided by maintaining 
a proper self-respect and manliness of de- 



124 EXERTION OF INFLUENCE. 

portment, such attention should always be 
paid to those about us, and such social 
habits formed, as will secure us a place in 
their affectionate regards. 

We are not placed here so much to find 
fault with the errors of others, as to do 
them good. Forgetting this, some are ever 
complaining that the world is not what it 
should be — always looking at the gloomy 
side of matters, without once dreaming that 
this course will tend to sour their own 
spirits, render their society unsavory to 
their associates, and thus disarm them of 
all power of usefulness. The object of 
these pages is to point out i a more excel- 
lent way.' The way of exerting a kind 
and salutary power over those with whom 
you associate, that having won upon their 
better feelings, you may lead them into the 
happy paths of virtue, and thus save them 
from the evils of which you complain. 



ANTAGONIST INFLUENCES. 125 



CHAPTER IV. 

DANGERS COMMON TO YOUTH. 

I have been urging the necessity of a good 
moral and manly character, and pointing to 
those means which directly lead to its for- 
mation. You cannot be 4oo deeply im- 
pressed with a sense of the importance nor 
too industriously use the means which in- 
variably lead to good character. Reputation 
to a man who has to live among men, and 
therefore has much to gain or lose, is almost 
every thing. Confidence is the soul of 
business, nor will he who inspires none, 
ever do much. 

But there are various antagonist influ- 
ences operating in all communities, espe- 
cially in large cities and densely populated 
towns, tending to prevent young persons 
from forming and maintaining moral and 

11* 



126 LABOR AND TOIL 

religious character. In addition to that 
natural recklessness, resulting from inex- 
perience, sloth, love of leisure and aversion 
to laborious effort, so common to humanity, 
there are numerous temptations held out, to 
allure, decoy and lead away young men 
from the happy paths of religion, virtue and 
moral worth. A few of these may be 
named. 

Jlmbition cries for immediate distinc- 
tion. An anxiety is felt, to be placed side 
by side with the older portions of the com- 
munity without having had time for such a 
result. A desire to stand upon the moun- 
tain's summit, without enduring the inter- 
mediate toil. Youth and inexperience are 
apt to be enthusiastic, to expect the end 
without the sturdy, and continued use of the 
means naturally leading to it. Ambition 
under due control, is a great virtue, and its 
absence is a most wretched misfortune, for 
which nothing can atone. But then it 
should be properly directed and applied, or 
like the unruly horse it will create ruin by 
too great haste. The result of over anxiety 



GO BEFORE DISTINCTION. 127 

to be placed in the front rank either of 
literature or wealth, is generally failure and 
discouragement. Every man wants to be 
a star, to attract the eyes and engross the 
attention of his associates. But he should 
remember that to gain his object ; time, la- 
bor,and unremitting industry, are required. 
To reach the heights of a mountain, all the 
intermediate distance is to be traversed. 
To be a man of knowledge, much reading 
and self-denial are to be used. The end is 
not so important now as the successful use 
of the means leading to it. You should be 
more anxious to secure the next step, than 
the glory of standing on the mountain's 
loftiest point. It is well that there is no 
royal road to fame and distinction in this 
country. I heartily rejoice that there is 
none. Every man now has his own way 
to make through life, future standing, and 
respectability, is the prize for which he is 
called upon to contend. The discipline 
which his faculties will receive in gaining 
his object, will be of far more value to him 
than the prize itself, if inherited from his 



128 USELESS COMPANY. 

ancestors. Honor follows humility : he 
who would walk erect hereafter, must be 
willing to stoop now. In nine cases out of 
ten, those who blaze extraordinarily at first 
go out in obscurity, and in a few years are 
forgotten. Fruit of the most speedy growth, 
like the Prophet's gourd, is found soonest 
to perish. Let ambition indulge large hopes 
for the future, but stifle and slay envy. If 
others out run you, let them go, bid them 
good speed, and wish them success. But 
relax no effort to enrich the soil of your 
own mind, suffering time and circumstances 
to develope abilities for usefulness. Gold 
will shine and command its value some 
time — baser metals may glow for a while, 
and command admiration from the vulgar, 
but will soon seek their level and lose ficti- 
tious importance. Let it never be forgotten 
that true greatness is the result of much 
toil and long years of diligent cultivation. 
This once firmly fixed in the mind, will 
save from those discouragements which 
usually follow miscalculation, and too early 
indulgence of a desire to shine. 



USELESS COMPANY. 129 

Habits of useless intercourse with asso- 
ciates is also vastly injurious to the young. 
Association is natural, and all will more or 
less indulge in it, nor should a word be said 
against it, provided the tendency of it is, to 
make youth wiser and better. But whilst 
this is conceded, it must be admitted that in 
all dense populations this indulgence is 
carried much too far. Time is valuable to 
all, yet not equally so. To the young every 
day and hour is more precious than gold or 
silver. They have character to form, know- 
ledge to gain and business habits to acquire. 
Some of these must be neglected if much 
time is needlessly spent in the idle chat of 
social parties. I have frequently passed 
the door of an engine house, toward evening, 
and seeing a number of young men hanging 
about it, in listless inaction, or cleaning the 
ornaments attached to the apparatus, I 
have enquired of myself, what prospects or 
hopes do such persons indulge for the future? 
As they sow — so shall they reap. How 
they will regret the waste of this time at a 



130 BAD HABITS. 

day, not very distant, whenl taste for such 
matters has all vanished. 

This however is not all. Habits the 
most debasing are frequently formed in 
companies met for mere chat and pastime. 
It is here that young men tenderly raised, 
and diligently cautioned against all un- 
worthy practices, first learn to use vulgar 
language, their manners become corrupted, 
and their whole character debased. Here 
is also imbibed a love for gaming, which 
practiced for a short time so engrosses the 
whole man as to wither and destroy all 
taste for every virtuous pursuit, however 
useful, manly or praise-worthy. Small 
games come first, — perhaps, merely for 
amusement, to while away the tedious 
hours, — nor does any one dream of serious 
consequences. How little do such know 
of human nature. Habits soon become 
fixed, and hard to eradicate. He who 
plays for amusement, in a short time be- 
comes a proficient, turns his skill to pecu- 
niary advantage, and ere he is aware, finds 



GAMBLING. 131 

himself a gambler. Thus the youth of 
much promise — the hope of doating parents 
and joy of his friends, is unexpectedly on 
the downward road, and in a few years 
reaches a place of deep and irrecoverable 
infamy. Such habits are sure to poison 
every virtuous principle, and invariably 
blast all prospect of respectability and ex- 
cellence. The danger is in the first and 
apparently innocent stages, as is the case 
with all other vices by which the young and 
unwary are beguiled of their simplicity and 
innocence. 

In some cities gambling houses have in 
their pay persons whose sole business it is 
to decoy young men, and specially strang- 
ers, into those places of ruin. They are 
at first invited to a party, and a sumptuous 
entertainment is provided. The unsuspect- 
ing youth is flattered by the attentions paid 
him. Wine and other more potent drinks 
are passed around, and the intended victim 
of their snares is treated with the utmost 
courtesy. When the potations in which 
they have freely indulged have produced 



132 GAMBLING. 

the desired effect, cards and other games 
are introduced, and the one they intend to 
fleece, whom they call a " flat" is permitted 
to win invariably at first. He is thus in- 
spired with unbounded confidence in his 
own skill, and an increased passion for 
play. The way to ruin is thus made 
smooth and inviting, and all obstacles are 
removed. He seems delighted to surpass 
others in his new employment, and his 
pockets are filled with ready money. But 
ere he is aware the tide turns, and all is 
gone, together with vast amounts that he 
has managed to borrow of his friends. In 
a short time his manliness has all forsaken 
him, and he soon vanishes from respectable 
society, and is found, if at all, in the most 
loathsome dens of vice, or waiting at some 
ferry for odd jobs, or the servant of some 
dirty bar-room, paid only in rum and the 
refuse of the forsaken table, with a tap 
room bed for repose at night. 

Says a sprightly writer, * tjie passion for 
gambling is the worst that can possibly 
enter the human heart. I hardly ever knew 



GAMBLING. 133 

a man who had once yielded to it, to break 
away from the strong temptation. It seems 
to seize upon him with the grasp of death. 
The victim of it is beyond the reach of 
counsel. It is vain to address his judgment, 
his hopes, or his fears. He may be a kind 
hearted man by nature, but it does no good 
to talk to him about his wife and children : 
he loves them, perhaps, although this in- 
fernal passion generally annihilates the 
social affections; but he would take the 
last crust from his child's mouth, and cast 
him upon the unpitying world, sooner than 
give up the gratification of this hellish pas- 
sion. Why ! it is stated, and probably with 
truth, that the late aid-de-camp of Lord 
Hutchinson, after having ruined himself by 
play, cut his throat in a fit of despair. It 
happened, however, that his life was saved ; 
and after some weeks he recovered. The 
first place he went to after he was allowed 
by his surgeon to go out, was the very 
gaming house where he had lost his money 
and formed the desperate purpose of de- 
stroying himself. Mr. Grant, who has paid 
12 



134 GAMBLING. 

a good deal of attention to this subject, 
thinks that the amount of money that is 
lost in the different gaming houses of Lon- 
don, cannot be less than 368,000,000 a year. 
I have no doubt myself that the sum is 
much greater. But this degrading and hor- 
rible passion is not confined to our sex. It 
prevails to an enormous extent among fas h- 
ionable ladies ! Many is the husband who 
has been embarrassed most deeply by the 
cards of his wife." 

A few years since, I witnessed the exe- 
cution of a man for murder. When under 
the gallows he briefly addressed the vast 
multitude that surrounded him. " Young 
men/' said he, " you wish to avoid the 
horrid end to which I have come. Then 
avoid the means which have led me to it. 
Do you inquire what they were ? I answer 
— first, I fell into idle company, and to pass 
away time cards were introduced. Of these 
I entertained the greatest horror, and for 
some time refrained from touching them. 
Yet I did not abandon my companions. 
Had I done this I should have been safe. 



GAMBLING. 135 

By suffering myself to be a spectator for a 
time, the horror for the practice left me, and 
I took some interest in the parties. By this 
means I gained some knowledge of an art 
to which I was before a total stranger. In 
a short time I was induced to try my skill, 
and was soon inducted into all the tricks of 
a business which was formerly the object 
of my greatest detestation. My history is 
soon told. In a short time murder had not 
half the horror attached to it, that card 
playing had prior to my witnessing it." 
The poor fellow ceased to speak — the cap 
was drawn — the drop fell, and he was in 
eternity. So much for idle associations and 
the beginnings of evil. 

If my readers will pardon me, I will here 
introduce a case recently tried before the 
Criminal Court of St. Louis. The facts, 
though published in several periodicals, 
may never have met the eye of many who 
may read this work. And if they have, 
they should be matter of permanent record, 
for the benefit of those who come after us. 



136 AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 



THE ROAD TO RUIN. 

« The defendant in this case, (Augustus V. 
Jones,) was, probably, twenty-eight years 
of age, but wore the appearance of at least 
thirty-five. He had evidently once been a 
fine looking man, in stature he was some- 
thing over six feet, and his strongly marked 
features and prominent forehead gave evi- 
dence of more than ordinary intellect. But 
you could clearly discover that he had be- 
come a prey to the monster Intemperance — 
the mark of the beast was stamped upon 
his countenance, which gave it a vivid and 
unnatural glare. He was placed in the box 
with others who were to be arraigned upon 
the indictments preferred against them. All 
the others had plead not guilty, (as is usual) 
and a day was set for their trial. The de- 
fendant was told to stand up, and the clerk 
read to him the indictment, which charged 
him with having, on the 10th day of Au- 



AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 137 

gust, passed to one Patrick Oneal a coun- 
terfeit bill purporting to be issued by the 
Second Municipality of the city of New 
Orleans, for the sum of three dollars, and 
upon being asked the question, guilty or 
not guilty ? he replied "guilty — guilty I" — 
Then, turning to the court, he remarked 
that, as this was the last time he ever expect- 
ed to appear in court, he would be glad 
if he could be allowed to make a few re- 
marks. The Judge told him to proceed. — 
After a pause, in which he was evidently 
endeavouring to calm his feelings, he pro- 
ceeded as follows — 

May it please the Court — In the remarks 
I shall make I will not attempt to extenuate 
my crime or ask at your hands any sympa- 
thy in passing sentence upon me. I know 
that I have violated the laws of my coun- 
try, and justly deserve punishment; nor 
would I recall the past, or dwell upon the 
bitter present, for my own sake. A wish 
to do good for others is my only motive. 

I shall, with the indulgence of the court, 
give a brief narrative of my life, with a 

12* 



138 AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 

hope that those young men around me may- 
take warning by it, and avoid the rock 
upon which I have split. I was born of 
respectable parents, in the State of New 
Jersey, and during my childhood received 
every attention that fond parents could be- 
stow upon an only son. It was early dis- 
covered that I had a fondness for books, 
and my father, although in limited circum- 
stances, determined to give me a liberal 
education. I was sent to a high school in 
the neighborhood, and such was my pro- 
gress, that at twelve years of age, my pre- 
ceptor declared me qualified for college, and 
I accordingly entered one of the oldest uni- 
versities of the country. Here I so dis- 
tinguished myself that, at sixteen, I gradu- 
ated with the second honours of the institu- 
tion, and returned home flushed with the 
brilliant prospect of success that lay before 
me. I soon after commenced the study of 
law, and when only in my twentieth year, 
I obtained license to practice. 

Acting upon the advice of friends, I de- 
termined to try my fortune in the west. I 



AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 139 

accordingly arranged my affairs for depart- 
ure early in the fall of 1833. I will not de- 
tain you with an aecount of my separation 
from those I held most dear — suffice to say, 
that I received the blessings of my parents, 
and in return, promised faithfully and 
honestly to avoid all bad company, as well 
as their vices. Had I kept my promise, I 
should have been saved this shame, and 
then free from the load of guilt that hangs 
around me continually, like a fiendish vul- 
ture, threatening to drag me to justice, for 
crimes as yet unrevealed. But, to return, I 
left my early home, where all had been sun- 
shine and where my pathway had been 
strewed with flowers, to try my fortune 
among strangers, and to try my strength in 
buffeting the storms and tempests of the 
world. With light heart I looked forward 
to the future ; and taking the usual route I 
soon reached Wheeling, where I took pas- 
sage on a boat for Louisville. On the boat 
a game of cards was proposed for amuse- 
ment, and although I had promised faith- 
fully to avoid such things, still, I argued to 



140 AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 

myself, there was no harm in playing a 
game for amusement. 

Accordingly, I joined the party, and we 
kept up the amusement most of the way 
down. After we left Cincinnati, it was 
proposed to bet a bit a game, merely, as it 
was said, to make it interesting. My first 
impression was to leave the table, but I was 
told that it was only a bit — that I could not 
lose more than one or two dollars. This 
argument prevailed, for I lacked moral 
courage to do what was right. I feared my 
companions would say I was stingy of a 
little money. Influenced by those feelings, 
I played ; and as the fates would have it, I 
won. Before we reached Louisville, we 
had twice doubled the stake, and I found 
my luck enabled me to pay my passage out 
of my winnings. It was the first time ever 
I had bet money, and my success ruined 
me. Again I played, and was again suc- 
cessful ; and, in short, I continued to play 
for amusement, until I had acquired a thirst 
for gambling. I settled in a thriving village 
in Tennessee, and commenced the practice 



AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 141 

of my profession under flattering auspices, 
and my first appearance in a criminal court 
was highly complimented, and I soon be- 
came known throughout the circuit. — 
Things went on thus for more than a year, 
and I believed myself fairly on the road to 
fame and fortune. I occasionally played 
cards; but I consoled myself with the idea 
that I only played with gentlemen for 
amusement. 

One night I accompanied some young 
men to a gambling shop, and for the first 
time in my life I saw a Faro Bank. My 
companions commenced betting, and I was 
induced to join them, although I did not 
understand the game. Again I played with 
success; and when we left the house, was 
more than two hundred dollars winner. 
None of my companions had been fortu- 
nate, and it was insisted that I was the 
lucky man, and that I must treat. We ac- 
cordingly repaired to my room, where I 
ordered wine, and before we broke up we 
were all deeply intoxicated. With me it 
was the first time, and the next day I re- 



142 AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 

solved that I would never play cards again. 
I adhered to the determination for nearly 
three months, when I yielded to the entrea- 
ties of my dissipated associates. 

I now played with varied success, and in 
all cases found an excuse for resorting to 
the wine bottle. If I lost, I drank to drown 
sorrow ; if I won I treated my good fortune. 
Thus I progressed upon my downward 
course, until drinking and gambling became 
my chief employments. All my friends 
who were worth preserving abandoned me, 
until my only associates were drunkards 
and gamblers, when almost reduced to 
want, (for I had left off business) I received 
a letter informing me of the death of my 
father — that father that watched over my 
early years — who loved me so tenderly. 
And did I act as an affectionate child ! 
No. Vice had destroyed the human feel- 
ings of my heart, and left only the animal 
passions and appetites; as the letter con- 
tained a check for five hundred dollars, a 
part of my poor father's hard earnings, I 
drowned my grief that night in Bacchanal- 



AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 143 

ian revel, and in a few days I was again 
pennyless. I will not dwell upon the every 
day scenes of my life, which were such as 
may at all times be witnessed at any of the 
two hundred dram-shops of your city, 
where wretched men squander the little 
pittance that justly belongs to their suffering 
wives and children. 

But, to pass on. For nearly three years 
I have been a drunken, wandering outcast. 
Six months ago, I received a letter from my 
dear mother, enclosing $100, and informing 
me that she was fast sinking with disease, 
and entreating with all a mother's feeling, 
to come home and see her before she died. 
For a time I felt the appeal, and resolved to 
comply with her request; and accordingly 
took passage on a steamboat for that pur- 
pose. For two days I refrained from 
liquor ; but my thirst became insupportable 
—at length my appetite overpowered my 
better feelings, and I approached the bar 
and demanded liquid fire. I was soon in- 
toxicated, when I madly sought the gam- 
bier's table; and before the boat reached 



144 AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 

Louisville, I was stript of every cent. Thus 
all hopes of seeing my dying mother were 
cut off, I remained at Louisville several 
weeks, in which time I learned that my 
mother had died, and that her last breath 
was spent in prayer for her wretched child. 

From Louisville, I shipped on board the 
steamer Brazil, % as a deck hand, and came 
to this place, where I was discharged for 
drunkenness. Let every young man reflect 
upon this picture. I, who had moved in 
the first circles of society — had been the 
guest of distinguished public men, and a 
favorite among the literati of our country 
— was now turned off as unfit for a deck 
hand on a steamboat — yet intemperance 
had done this much. 

I loitered about the city for several 
weeks, and was sometimes engaged in post- 
ing up the books of some dram shop, for 
which 1 was paid in the liquid fire, kept for 
the accommodation of customers. One 
evening I fell in company with a man who 
has lately been lodged in jail for passing 
counterfeit money. We played cards, and 



AUGUSTUS V. JONES. 145 

I won from him the three dollar bill in ques- 
tion. The next day I learned it was coun- 
terfeit, and did not offer to pass it for seve- 
veral days. But at last I got out of all em- 
ployment. 1 had no other money. I could 
meet no one who would ask me to drink. 
My appetite was like a raging fire within 
me. I could not endure it. I sought a dram 
shop — offered the bill — it was accepted ; 
and when found a few hours after, by the 
officers of justice, I was beastly drunk. 

The evidence of guilt was conclusive ; 
and before my brain was clear of the intoxi- 
cating fumes, I was lodged in jail to await 
my trial. I am now done. I have not de- 
tained the Court with any hope or wish that 
clemency would be extended to my case* 
But with a hope that my example may be a 
warning to other young men — that those 
who hear me may, when asked to play a 
social game of cards, or drink a social 
glass, think of my fate and refrain. They 
may feel themselves secure — they may be- 
lieve that they can stop when they please ; 
but let them remember that I argued thus 

13 



146 AUGUSTUS V, JONES. 

until I was lost. [Here the defendant sunk 
down and appeared to be very much affect- 
ed, and for a few moments silence reigned 
throughout the Court House.] 

At length the Judge, who is as much dis- 
tinguished for the qualities of his heart as he 
is for learning as a Judge, proceeded in a 
brief but appropriate manner to pass sen- 
tence upon the defendant, putting his pun- 
ishment in the penitentiary down to the 
shortest time allowed by law." 

By all that is sacred and lovely in manly 
character and moral excellence, as you re- 
gard your present standing in society and 
indulge the hope of future good, let me 
entreat you to forbid the entrance of such 
temptations. As you respect your parents 
and friends, and wish to preserve and 
maintain the worthy reputation of your 
family. As you desire success in business, 
and respectability in life, have no fellowship 
with the gamester on a large or small scale. 
Be he poor or rich, fashionable or rustic, 
his way is dark, a curse hangs over it, and 
it leads directly to the chambers of eternal 



PROFANITY. 147 

death. Let every youth study to show 
himself approved to all the good by keep- 
ing out of his way, always and on all oc- 
casions, lest he share in the miserable cup 
of which he has to drink, and be cut off 
as the gamester always is, in the midst of 
his days. 

Profanity is also a crying and grievous 
evil in this day. Is there any need of cau- 
tion against this most vulgar and loathsome 
vice ? With the majority I trust there is 
not. Yet in a large shop or place of busi- 
ness, there are frequently found some who 
use improper language. Its daily occur- 
rence allays its offensiveness, and then care 
is necessary lest the same habit be imbibed. 
You are horror stricken when you hear an 
oath come from the mouth of a little boy in 
the street. Older persons are affected in the 
same way on hearing it from you. Nothing 
is or can be more disgusting. Some cox- 
combs think it manly to wish their com- 
panions in hell, and profanely to use the 
ho y name of God. But it makes them 
appear superlatively contemptible to all but 



148 PROFANITY. 

vagabonds. You seldom hear an oath from 
any one who has any claim to respectability. 
A wise and inspired man hath said, " evil 
communications corrupt good manners." 
To prove the truth of this, ask yourself, did 
you ever hear a polite man swear. I will 
venture, you never did. He may have been 
rich, have held a high office, but like whale 
meat, he was coarse. His private life was 
low, and he abounded in " dirty tricks." A 
gentleman will not use profane language. 
How disgusting it is to hear a man inter- 
lard every sentence with an oath — a curse 
on himself or some one else. It is not 
decent, nor would it be tolerated in good 
society. If it is deemed an insult in pre- 
sence of ladies — why is it not equally so in 
that of genteel men. 

If you have contracted such an indecent 
habit, you are ruined forever, unless it be 
broken immediately. If you wish to go 
to the very bottom of society, and then to 
darkness eternal, do choose a more decent 
road. One not quite so direct. I consider 
the infamous black leg a gentleman com- 



INFIDELITY. 149 

pared with the profane swearer, as the 
former holds man and his laws in contempt, 
the latter God and his fearful thunder. As 
you, therefore, regard your present and fu- 
ture welfare, you will avoid the practice of 
swearing. 

Youth is also in danger from the wiles of 
infidelity. The chamelion hues of modern 
skepticism are so various, it is difficult to 
furnish you with a description sufficiently 
graphic and true to life. Its character and 
complexion varies with the causes which 
give it birth and being. No man, great or 
small, ancient or modern, has ever attempt- 
ed to embody or give it substantial form, 
and it may be doubted whether any one 
can. Its advocates deal in sophistry, and 
spend their force in efforts to unsettle the 
faith of the orthodox, rather than tell us 
what they believe themselves. Indeed their 
faith is a general and acrimonious system 
of doubt. Their knowledge of the Scrip- 
tures is generally superficial, as are their 
other attainments, and in most cases they 
have more talk than brains. Ridicule is 

13* 



150 INFIDELITY. 

their choice and deadliest weapon, which 
has been too often wielded successfully in 
slaying the pious resolutions of the young 
and incautious. The difficulties thrown 
in the way of a scriptural faith by the 
heroes of infidelity, have been a thousand 
times answered, but the lilliputian skeptics 
of modern times affect to forget the answers, 
whilst with an iron recollection they hold fast 
to the difficulties. In their attacks upon the 
venerable structure of Christianity and di- 
vine revelation, skeptics have learned that 
it is much easier to deny than to disprove. 
Infidelity has often arrogated to itself all 
the learning and talent, the wisdom and tact 
of society, while it has conceded that Chris- 
tianity has prevailed among the weak and 
illiterate. A claim of this kind cannot pos- 
sibly affect any except the most ignorant 
in community, as nothing can be more un- 
true. The master spirits in the records of 
literary fame, have been found among the 
most devout worshippers of the God of the 
bible. And although I do not intend to 
furnish a list of names in proof of this as- 



INFIDELITY. 151 

sertion, I may ask — where in this contro- 
versy stood Sir Isaac Newton, who after he 
had finished his astronomical studies, sat 
down and composed a commentary on the 
New Testament. Locke and Bacon were 
devout believers, with almost all others 
whose literary labors have long blessed 
mankind. And not to go abroad, let each 
reader ask himself who they are, who have 
most benefitted, enlightened, and favored 
his own land ? Who have planned, reared 
and endowed the colleges and institutions 
of learning which now grace our country, 
and at which most of the great men of this 
nation received their power of usefulness? 
Where is one such institution that was 
gotten up by infidels ? If their principles 
are good why are they not also useful? 
And I would entreat every youth to cast 
his eye about him in society, and look for 
those who are most active in doing good. 
Who most efficiently help the poor ? Who 
build and endow asylums for the desolate 
widow and forsaken orphan ? Are they 
not those whose faith in the verities of 



152 INFIDELITY. 

divine revelation is their principal prompter 
to such deeds of goodness ? They expect no 
reward here, but look for it at the resurrec- 
tion of the just. In whose steps do you 
wish to tread, whose virtues do you covet 
to emulate? 

Sin and infidelity mutually depend upon 
each other. Do away one, and the other 
will no where exist. As long however as 
men love vice, and the practice of sin is 
pleasant, and infidelity will excuse or pal- 
liate its enormity, admirers it will have, 
though the present consequences, be ig- 
norance and crime, and the future, eternal 
death. The natural desire of all men is to 
be free of restraint and responsibility. This 
is a fruitful source of skepticism. But the 
principal danger to young persons, is the 
society of semi-infidels, popularly called 
free thinkers — into which they may be 
thrown, not from choice but the force of 
circumstances. And by hearing their daily 
conversation — sneers at religion, (which 
they call superstition or bigotry,) or foolish 
sophistry — falsely termed argument — they 



INFIDELITY. 153 

become warped and biassed, until judgment 
loses its balance. Being also deficient in 
the corrective power, which general know- 
ledge and reading imparts, they are fatally 
led into the region of doubt and disbelief. 

To their shame be it spoken, men of an 
unsettled faith — having no hope in God 
themselves find their chief pleasure in trying 
to unsettle the faith of others. Those young- 
er than they, and who for want of know- 
ledge, experience, or skill in argument, are 
unable to refute their shameless sophistries, 
are generally selected as their victims. I 
need not pause to remark on the baseness 
of such a course. Such do the work of 
their master, and are the principal agents of 
his Satanic majesty. Barely to name them 
is I trust quite sufficient to guard you against 
their society, when practicable. I once 
knew a case of this kind. A learned and 
gray-headed infidel, boarded with a family 
where there was a pious mechanic. Both 
eat at the same table, and were on the most 
friendly terms. So far all was well enough. 
But the zealous skeptic, wished to make a 



154 INFIDELITY. 

proselyte, and therefore was ever and anon 
throwing difficulties in the way of the honest 
mechanic's faith. This was borne with, for 
a season. Yet the unlettered believer though 
unshaken in his opinions by all that he heard, 
was desirous of enjoying his own tenets in 
peace. He therefore made his circumstances 
known to his pastor, which soon cured the 
evil, as the minister requested an interview 
under circumstances in which the faith of 
each might be tested by rational argument. 
This of course was declined by the un- 
believer, as he feared the consequences of a 
contest with one who was his equal in in- 
formation. Thus the matter ended and the 
faithful christian was afterward allowed to 
pursue his course without molestation. 

How strange it is that infidelity should 
be so eager to make proselytes. Surely it 
must be a fiend that hardens and destroys 
the heart. It seeks to rob mourners of their 
only consolation, the unfortunate of their 
chief and only solace, the sick and dying of 
their only hope, to unbind all the ties of 
society, and spread ruin and a heartless 



INFIDELITY. 155 

depravity with all its chilling influences 
through community. Christianity is repre* 
sented as having shed rivers of blood, while 
all the candid know that want of Chris* 
tianity — party spirit ; has caused all the 
evils ever imputed by infidels to Christianity 
itself While infidelity and atheism, have 
within the memory of men now living— in 
the emporium of boasted refinement, cut 
off thousands of the virtuous, the aged, the 
youthful, the humble, the noble, the mother, 
the maid and even the infant. And then 
like a furious serpent having no more to 
bite, it turned and fanged itself. 

All this has infidelity done, and yet the 
half is not told. Need more be said, to 
warn all who read these pages against its 
destructive snares. Mental dissipation too, 
has made many an unbeliever. Whilst 
deep research into the mysteries of nature, 
and godliness, and a general knowledge of 
the history of mankind, has cured thousands 
of their previous hallucinations. Another 
strong argument in favor of intellectual 
cultivation. 



156 INFIDELITY. 

I have frequently thought it must be 
exceedingly difficult for the skeptic, and 
downright infidel, to live happily in society 
as matters now are. He cannot get a man 
to go into business with him, if his senti- 
ments are known, unless it be a man as 
careless or unbelieving as himself. He 
cannot go to church where others love to 
be ; for he does not believe the doctrines 
there taught, and if he does venture oc- 
casionally to be found there with the multi- 
tude, he gets excited with rage before he 
leaves, so that it is a torment, instead of a 
comfort to him. He cannot mix in the 
society of virtuous ladies, they spurn and 
avoid his company as they would a pesti- 
lence. But few ladies are skeptical in their 
notions. It does not suit them, being far 
too vulgar and gross in its character, to 
make proselytes among them. They are 
generally afraid of it, and well they may 
be. Christianity has done all for them. 
Where this is not they do the work of the 
field and house, both, while the men like lazy 
lubbers, sit and look on, or bask in the sun 
in careless inaction* 



LIGHT READING. 157 

The christian religion is therefore dear to 
females, because it has placed them, where 
God and nature intended they should be. 
It has ennobled, educated and exalted them. 
Well may they hate the very appearance of 
that which by possibility, should it prevail, 
might deprive them of their natural place 
and again degrade them so, they should be 
viewed as beasts of burden. I do not slan- 
der infidelity, though I thus speak, but 
utter a plain truth which the history of 
mankind fully proves. Is it not meet then, 
that you should be cautioned against im- 
bibing its insidious poison. Be careful of 
your society, what books you read, and 
what notions you adopt in early life, and 
you will be comparatively safe. 

Light reading, is also becoming an evil 
of some magnitude, by amusing the pas- 
sions it is deadening and stupifying the 
conscience. Unbelievers would by the force 
of depravity, be much more numerous than 
they now are if men had not consciences to 
arouse them to study the Scriptures, and 
lead to meditation on divine things. What- 

14 



158 LIGHT READING. 

ever therefore so amuses and lulls, as to do 
away the force of moral feeling, effectually 
hardens the heart, and thus disarms con- 
science of its tremendous power. The 
consequence is, religion is at first treated as 
a light and unimportant matter, and after- 
ward reviled. Nor have I much more faith 
in religious light works, so called. Their 
authors have no doubt meant well. They 
hoped to displace those of a worse charac- 
ter. Of such motive I do not complain, but 
the policy is at least doubtful. It is catering 
to a morbid appetite, which should be sub- 
dued, not supplied and fed. The plain 
truths of religion should be taught in a plain 
and Scriptural way. Both learning and 
piety, have suffered from this perverted 
taste for works of fiction and fancy. Study 
has thereby become too superficial, and 
taste for close thinking, in many cases, lost 
altogether. 

He who would make a great man, or even 
a good and useful one must think, and those 
books are always best which make him 
think most. Reading alone is not study. To 



AMUSEMENTS. 159 

study is to read and analyze, examine, ar- 
range, compare and collect evidence to sus- 
tain or refute the matter under investigation, 
so that it may take its place among things 
admitted or rejected. He therefore who 
would wish his mind to be of the right cast, 
his moral standing enviable, and his religious 
sentiments sound and trustworthy, must 
read those works, and pursue such studies 
as tend to form such character. If light 
works are read, it should be as dessert is 
eaten, after the more strengthening food has 
been used. Then it is done merely for re- 
laxation or the recreation of the mental fac- 
ulties. 

I must not neglect to caution you to be 
on your guard also, against the bewitching 
amusements of large cities and dense popu- 
lations. That of the theatre perhaps is the 
most destructive to morals and virtue, there- 
fore I will give it greatest prominence. The 
danger to be apprehended from this source 
to young persons is truly startling. I am 
really at a loss to know in what terms to 
speak of it, that my remarks may be useful. 



160 THEATRES. 

To many the temptation is indeed great. 
Nor can this be a matter of wonder, when 
the splendor of the edifices, the decorations, 
the music, skill of the actors, and all the 
fascinations of the place are taken into ac- 
count. Add to this the puffs of almost 
every editor, the large play-cards that ob- 
trude upon our vision at almost every corner 
of the street, pass where we will, and the 
attendance of fashion, gaiety and beauty, 
nearly every night in the week for a whole 
season. To the aged and sober all this may 
hold forth nothing at all inviting. But with 
the young it is far otherwise. Naturally 
fond of company — their spirits always high, 
they are apt to disrelish that which does not 
thrill them with excitement. The conductors 
of theatres, fully aware of this, try to make 
the most of it. Hence the imposing char- 
acter of their bills, abounding with promises 
of great sport, buffoonery, clownish tricks, 
and a thousand other nameless follies, at 
which a wise man would blush. 

A young man who yields himself to the 
fascinating power of such temptations, is as 



THEATRES. 161 

good as ruined. Unless his income is large, 
the expense of attendance upon theatres, 
will be found to drain his pockets of all his 
ready change, and thereby occasion him 
much inconvenience, to sav the least of it. 
But in a few years he will wish for the 
money thus uselessly throw 7 n away, to aid 
him in starting business. If he has now 
more than his immediate wants call for, it 
should be duly taken care of and preserved 
for future necessities. I believe, however, 
the presumption generally is, that those who 
habitually frequent theatres soon become 
moneyless. The habit once formed and 
appetite fixed, it must be gratified at any 
hazard. Money must be had honestly if 
possible — dishonestly if necessary. Had it 
must be, if the merchant's desk has to sup- 
ply it. The confession of numerous juvenile 
offenders and reports of the police in all 
large cities, shows that in a majority of 
cases, the temptation to steal was induced 
by the habit and desire of attending theatres. 
Such a taste once contracted, and a man 
will do almost any thing, as the moral 



162 THEATRES. 

checks and restraints which before governed 
him are done away. 

The time which they are the means of 
destroying, is also worthy of consideration. 
We have before alluded to the importance 
of time to persons in the morning of their 
days. Time is never w r asted with impunity. 
It is a valuable which cannot be stored up, 
as it is sparingly dealt out to every man. 
Theatres generally open at 7 o'clock, and 
continue until 11 or 12 o'clock. Four 
hours are thus devoted to folly and child- 
ish play. If no other evil could be qamed, 
this total loss of time should deter every 
youth from attendance at such places. That 
much time each day spent in labor, would 
soon give a man competence, if the product 
were carefully saved. If spent in reading 
and study, the world would soon feel his 
influence. In fact it amounts to one quarter 
of a man's active life, if carried through 
the whole year. 

But the moral effect of such amusements 
is most disastrous. The testimony of all 
ages and all nations pays a full tribute to 



THEATRES. 163 

this truth. In the neighborhood, or within 
the walls of each theatre, there is always 
found a refectory, where are exposed label- 
led canisters of all sorts of liquor. Temp- 
tations to indulge the appetite are held out 
on every side. The company, the amuse- 
ment, the hilarity, all aid in overcoming the 
power of resistance, and many a man has 
found by experience that the only way to 
resist successfully was to stay away. I 
have spoken of the company frequenting 
these earthly hells. It is well known that 
no theatre could long exist unless free tickets 
were given to abandoned females, or they 
were admitted in some way. They attract 
more than the actors or the showy play- 
cards. It has been well termed a house of 
assignation, to which resort the abandoned 
of both sexes. What young man therefore, 
who pretends to good moral character dare 
attend theatres, unless in disguise? I marvel 
— it is a matter which excites in me perfect 
wonder, — how any parent can consent to 
allow his son just ripening into manhood, 
to visit such a place. I consider it, and sad 



164 THEATRES, 

experience has proved it in thousands of 
cases to be the direct road to ruin. I never 
attended a theatre once in my life, but I 
have watched with feeling interest the down- 
ward course of those who have, and there- 
fore here raise my warning voice to all 
young men, which I hope they will heed 
before iniquity prove their ruin. 

Nothing has yet been said concerning the 
representations there witnessed, nor of the 
moral character of the actors themselves. 
Into this I do not wish to enter. But I be- 
lieve it may be safely asserted, that there is 
no young gentleman of standing but would 
spurn the society of those in the day time, 
at whom he loves to stare and laugh at 
night. And it is a problem which the moral 
portion of community will never be able to 
solve, how ladies of taste, modesty and re- 
finement ; — ladies whose faces are taught to 
crimson at the least indelicate suggestion in 
company, can sit for an hour surrounded by 
young gentlemen, gazing at the most indeli- 
cate antics, and half naked form of one of 
their own sex, imported from another coun- 



THEATRES. 165 

try. Were they to see her in such 'undress' 
in the street, they would throw their eyes 
down in an instant, nor allow the young 
gentlemen at their side to know they had 
noticed her. Yet — glaring inconsistency, 
and suspicious hypocrisy, they can gape at 
her in the theatre without a blush. Let no 
young lady pretend to delicacy, who can sit 
unmoved by a sense of shame, and see such 
indecent exposures. Mothers, too, w 7 ho 
cannot but feel desirous their daughters 
should grow up in possession of the most 
virtuous principles, and learn to scorn a low 
and mean thought, are sometimes seen sit- 
ting side by side with them, joining in the 
general laugh, when they ought to blush. 
But as they sow they must reap, nor will 
the moral part of community (however they 
may feel toward the daughters) pity such 
mothers if their much loved and tenderly 
cherished ones become a ruin. How can 
they expect otherwise 1 " Plays," says 
Plato, " raise the passions and pervert the 
use of them, and of consequence are dan- 
gerous to morality." Aristotle says, " the 



166 THEATRES. 

seeing of plays and comedies should be for- 
bidden to young people, until age and disci- 
pline have made them proof against de- 
bauchery." And Tacitus says, "the Ger- 
man women were guarded against danger 
and preserved their purity, by having no 
play houses among them." 

To these I need not add another testimony 
in proof of the evil tendency and ruinous 
results of the stage. He who would not 
hear these and be wise, would not stay his 
course of folly, though death and eternal 
retribution stared him full in the face. All 
your studies, all your wisdom, all your 
other virtues will fail to make you what you 
ought, and what you desire to be, if you 
yield to the seductive snares of this temp- 
tation. Keep out of its way, nor select 
your associates from among those who love 
theatrical misrepresentations. 

And if this book shall chance to fall into 
the hands of a young lady, let me warn her 
to look well to the habits of the young gen- 
tlemen who proffers her his hand. Does he 
habitually attend theatres — then are his 



DISOBEDIENCE TO PARENTS* 167 

morals impure and grievously tainted. So 
much so, that it will be difficult for him to 
make a faithful husband. Some vices seem 
to stand alone, others to affect and mar the 
whole man. This, with its attendant cir- 
cumstances, is of the latter class. He who 
has been much at these places, has also 
been in the vilest company, and after that 
it is next to impossible for him to love a 
wife as he ought. Many young ladies may 
but little heed these remarks, and fondly 
suffer themselves to be attached to a foolish 
fop, hoping that a few years will make him 
steady. Vain hope — if he has wandered 
out of the way of understanding, he gene- 
rally " remains in the congregation of the 
dead/' 

As I have taken the liberty to act the 
part of a monitor, and have been urging 
such cautions as I have deemed important, 
suffer me in addition to what has been al- 
ready said, to advise you to guard against 
disobedience to parents — a sin which I 
believe to be one of the most heinous in 



168 DISOBEDIENCE TO PARENTS. 

the sight of God. Nor is it otherwise in 
that of all wise and virtuous men. Parental 
government and control is a fixed and 
sacred ordinance of Jehovah, never disre- 
garded with impunity. Persecution against 
religion has been said, to be the last crime 
that the Divine Being would fully pardon. 
1 rank disobedience to parents with it. Do- 
mestic order is the soul of society. And 
had not the Creator of men protected it by 
His special authority, His work would have 
been imperfect. With reverence do I say 
this, and with firmness do I believe it. But 
it is not left unguarded. The command is 
imperious, " children, obey your parents in 
all things, for this is right." The first com- 
mandment with a promise is recorded in its 
favor, and long life it is declared shall re- 
sult from it. While early death, and all 
the woes ever visited upon crime, may be 
confidently looked for and expected in all 
cases of disobedience. I know an old gen- 
tleman now residing in this city, who has 
reached nearly his ninetieth year — who 



DISOBEDIENCE TO PARENTS. 169 

says, and firmly believes, that his life is 
prolonged because of his strict obedience 
and faithful attention to his parents. 

I believe with him, though I may thus 
expose myself to the charge of fanaticism. 
Let the history of every man who lives to 
advanced age, be examined in the light of 
this doctrine and it will be found true. All 
general rules are said to require exceptions, 
but I doubt whether any need be demanded 
here. The question may rest upon its own 
merits and be tested by matter of fact. 
Whenever, therefore, I see a disobedient 
and unkind child, at whatever age, 1 always 
judge that he will run a short race and die 
a miserable death. Such do not generally 
die in the ordinary way. In most cases the 
Divine Being vindicates his truth by putting 
a mark upon them in life and in death. 
Many whom I have been called to visit in 
their affliction, when I have remarked upon 
its singularity of type, have replied — it is 
all because of disobedience to my parents. 
The Judge of the universe never holds him 
guiltless who disregards parental law and 

15 



170 AN AWFUL EXAMPLE. 

authority. He may triumph for a while, 
and think all is well, but a fearful plague 
is in his dwelling, and although it may long 
remain concealed, it shall break out some 
time and give him more pain than all the 
other misfortunes of his life put together. 

Community has recently been shocked by 
the report of an awful tragedy in a neigh- 
bouring city. Murder has been perpetrated 
under the most revolting circumstances in 
cold blood. To the transaction, or any 
facts connected with it, there is no occasion 
to call your attention, as you are acquainted 
with them already. But my purpose is 
rather to look at the man who is said to 
have committed it. It is asserted that John 
C. Colt, apparently a fine specimen of a 
well proportioned man, was guilty of the 
foul deed. What could have prepared him 
for so bloody and unnatural an act? for 
such crimes are never committed without 
due preparation. The ruling and reigning 
sin of his whole life has been disobedience 
and insubordination. This has character- 
ized him from his childhood upwards. This 



DISOBEDIENCE TO PARENTS. 171 

says a periodical, " is the germ whose 
growth has been so bitter. His whole 
course has been marked by self will, break- 
ing through all the common restraints of 
the family, of the school room, of the count- 
ing-house, of social life, and the laws of 
God. John C. Colt has been for fourteen 
years a voluntary exile from the parental 
roof. Let the child who will not submit to 
be checked and managed, tremble for the 
end of his own career ; and let the parent 
tremble for the child, who cannot be made 
to yield to just authority, and let him never 
dare to hope that the youth whom he can- 
not control, will learn to control himself and 
curb his own wild passions." 

I believe it to be utterly impossible for 
the ungovernable and disobedient child ever 
to prosper. The advice and judgment of 
parents should be respected, not only by 
those underage, but in all afterlife. Legal 
obligation may cease at a definite age, but 
natural obligation never. Propriety will 
forbid the child to contradict and contend 



172 POLITICAL STRIFE. 

with the parent at any age, or period of 
life. And though the parent may be in the 
wrong, and therefore, the child may feel 
compelled to differ with him, silence or the 
most tender remarks should characterize his 
course. Even a drunken parent should 
receive the respect of his children and the 
utmost tenderness of treatment, at least 
with all such as wish for long life and to see 
good days. 

Another evil against which you should 
be on your guard is the mania of political 
strife. To take a proper interest in the 
affairs of your country is required of you 
as good citizens. But in doing that it most 
certainly is not necessary that you become 
a violent partizan, and heedlessly follow 
the dictation of party leaders, whose prin- 
cipal stimulant is the hope of gain. You 
can cast your vote according to the dictate 
of an enlightened judgment, and then quietly 
retire to the duties of your profession. This 
is quite proper, most certainly right, and the 
duty of every man. But every man must 



SAMUEL DREW. 173 

take care how he meddles with political 
affairs, as it is one of the most engrossing 
matters known in any country. Samuel 
Drew, the Metaphysician, was once in the 
shoe business, but by some means became 
deeply interested in the affairs of govern- 
ment. He says of himself, that he was in 
the habit of spending the principal portion 
of the day among his political friends, dis- 
cussing affairs most interesting to such men, 
and in the evening he usually returned to his 
shop and worked very late at night to re- 
deem lost time. On one occasion of the kind 
a boy passed, and tapping at his window 
cried out, " ha — you play all day and work 
all night." This Mr. Drew admitted to be 
the best, and kindest reproof he ever re- 
ceived. It changed his whole course of 
life. From that time he resolved to cease 
being a politician, and take care for himself. 
Thus commenced his career of improve- 
ment which continued until death, and has 
placed his name among those whose me- 
mory shall never perish. Had he continued 

15* 



174 EXPENSE OF POLITICS. 

a politician, his business would have wast- 
ed away through neglect, his strong mind 
would never have been brought out, nor 
his real greatness have been known to man- 
kind. 

He who suffers himself to fall into the 
political current knows not where it will 
carry him. His motives may be pure 
enough in the outset, and his morals may 
be good, but associating with the vulgar, 
spending hours together in the midst of 
dense crowds, and sometimes in bar-rooms 
too, he must have more stability and firm- 
ness, than ordinarily falls to the lot of mor- 
tals, if both his principles and morals do not 
give way. Industrious habits are also in 
great danger from such associations. Who 
ever feels like work on the day following a 
night of merriment and outrageous hilarity 
occasioned by party triumph ? That day 
is generally lost. If that were all, it would 
be a small matter, bul^ it is not. Expenses 
increase, and income diminishes, as this 
fearful mania drives its victim forward in 



OFFICE-SEEKERS. 175 

the road to poverty and ruin. His business 
is finally given up, and to obtain subsistence 
he sues for a petty office and is successful 
in his application. For a season all seems 
to go on swimmingly, but ere he is aware 
the tables are turned, his office is taken 
from him, given to another, and he is sent 
adrift to provide for himself. What can he 
do, he has lost his business habits and his 
character for good citizenship ; he " cannot 
dig, and to beg he is ashamed." There is 
one resource yet left him, — poor fellow, — 
one business, if it be lawful to call it 
such, — he can keep a filthy grog-shop, and 
get a scanty subsistence by filching fips 
from the leaky pockets of neighbouring 
loafers. 

Such, in too many instances, is the termi- 
nation of the career of many young men 
who arose into life with the most flattering 
prospects. Had they avoided the evil 
against which 1 am now warning you, they 
would have lived in comfort and respecta- 
bility — perhaps in wealth and honour. But 



176 THE RESULT. 

they are gone beyond the reach of hope and 
recovery. Let their sad fate be a caution 
to such as are yet unentangled by the net 
which has first bound and then led them to 
ruin. 



USEFULNESS. 177 



CHAPTER V. 

DUTIES OF YOUNG MEN. 

All that has been recommended in the 
foregoing pages, intellectual and moral cul- 
tivation, character and standing, are vastly- 
important to every young person, but they 
are only preparatives for usefulness. To 
gain these in any good degree, is to acquire 
a power, which, if properly used, may be 
extensively felt, not only among those who 
are our immediate associates, but by all 
men throughout society. A stone thrown 
into the glassy bosom of the lake, sends its 
waving ripple to the distant shore. Creation 
in its wide extent, now feels the effect of 
the little Sabbath-school, raised by the toil 
and piety of Robert Raikes. 

Nothing is more true than the declara- 
tion, "no man liveth to himself and no man 



178 USEFULNESS. 

dieth to himself." Our every act, has in- 
fluence somewhere for weal or wo, — for the 
happiness or misery — now and hereafter — 
of those who are about us. Every man is 
so connected with the multitude that he is 
either doing them good, promoting their 
peace or destroying it. The blessings which 
your fathers have bequeathed to you their 
children, are far richer than empty titles, 
and yet you would pity the son who would 
throw even these away. How much more 
strongly are you bound to keep and preserve 
the legacy left you ? But you are not only 
to guard the laws and liberties of your coun- 
try, and see that they are maintained en- 
tire, you are expected to look well to its 
morals too. Liberty never continued long 
in any country after its morality had de- 
parted. 

There are many conservative influences 
now at work in our country the direct tend- 
ency of which is to preserve the morals of 
the people, and thereby bless the land in 
which we live. The public preaching of 
the gospel and means' of grace are of this 



EFFORTS NOW BEING MADE. 179 

character. Were the churches blotted out 
of existence and erased from the map of 
our country, preaching suspended, and all 
public prayer to cease, in vain would the 
magistrate hold his seat and endeavour to 
preserve order. Anarchy would soon en- 
sue; anarchy of so fearful a character as to 
render life and property unsafe. Your duty 
then is clear and plain before you. No ar- 
gument can be needed to convince you that 
your influence is fully and decidedly to be 
cast on the side of religion and virtue. 
Stand by the public means of grace as one 
of the main bulwarks of your country's 
freedom, nor ought you to be willing to 
hear religion reviled. 

This, however, is not enough ; you should 
be active in its promotion. It is the opinion 
of most of the wise and good that we live 
on the eve of an important and most event- 
ful period. The world's population is be- 
coming consolidated. The nations which 
were once farthest apart, are now being 
brought near to each other by the improve- 
ments of modern times. Efforts for the 



180 MODERN IMPROVEMENTS. 

evangelization of the world are now made 
with an energy hitherto unknown. The 
bible is to be published to every nation un- 
der heaven, and missions are to be estab- 
lished on every heathen shore, so that " all 
may know the Lord from the least to the 
greatest." Christian nations are to do 
this; none else can. The Divine Being and 
all good men are deeply interested in this 
great work, nor can the smiles of God be 
expected to rest upon neutrals ; every man 
is called upon to aid in this business, to ex- 
ert his influence be it great or small, and 
contribute of his substance in its promo- 
tion. 

Churches are to be erected to accommo- 
date our home population with places in 
which they can hear the word of God. Sab- 
bath Schools are to be kept up, and all the 
children in the lanes and streets of cities, as 
well as in the sparse country, are to be 
brought under their beneficial influence. 
Who is to do all this? The very ones whom 
I am now addressing. The young men of 
our land are bound to be foremost in these 



SABBATH SCHOOLS. 181 

great works of mercy and reform. They 
owe it to those who have gone before, and 
to the generation that shall come after them ; 
they owe it to God and themselves. All 
excuses for idleness are inadmissable in this 
stirring and active age. The time was 
when these mighty interests could be ne- 
glected with comparative impunity, but 
thank Heaven, that time is passed by never 
to return. 

The teacher in a Sabbath School is in a 
process of education, which will soon create 
for him distinction. His moral and intel- 
lectual powers are both being trained for 
future activity and greatness, and his store 
of knowledge is continually receiving new 
acquisitions. Sabbath School libraries are 
daily increasing by the addition of new 
works on all subjects within the range of 
human knowledge and research, to all of 
which he has a ready access. This is no 
trifling circumstance to such as have not the 
advantage of a library of their own, and 
whose chief complaint is want of access to 
the right kind of books. To all such I 

16 



182 SABBATH SCHOOLS. 

would say, become teachers of Sabbath 
Schools at once, and your wants in this re- 
spect are met. 

Every man whom God hath made, has 
his place and his allotted work in His crea- 
tion. Those who have the least talent, and 
by circumstances seem to command the 
least influence, are sometimes made instru- 
ments of the greatest amount of good to 
their fellows. No one knows what he can 
do, or what God has intended him to do, 
until he has tried. Each one should be 
actuated by the desire to leave the world a 
little better, for his having lived in it. A 
worldly and wealthy man once took pains 
to show a friend of mine his well cultivated 
and highly improved lands. My friend 
afterward took occasion to enquire, what 
object he proposed to himself in all his 
labors and cares? Said he, "you have 
property enough to ensure your own com- 
fort while you are here, without further 
effort." What think you was his reply ? 
Let every young man, and especially every 
Christian hear it. * I wish to leave the 



TEMPERANCE. 183 

world a little better for my having lived in 
it." What a motive for a man confessedly 
without the fear of God. Did every man 
feel the action of such an impulse what a 
world would this soon be ! This land 
would be the garden of the Lord, and every 
heathen shore would soon be visited by 
missionary feet — the precious Bible be in 
every man's hand, and the song of salvation 
go up from every tongue. 

Where much is given, much is required. 
There is no question but many are short- 
lived because they are useless. God re- 
moves them to make a place for others who 
will be more useful. And why should he 
not ? Had you hired servants you would 
do the same. Why allow a man to occupy 
a place which he is too lazy to fill with 
honour to himself or usefulness to his fel- 
lows? You must, therefore, work or be 
displaced by Him who put you where you 
are. Necessity is laid upon you, and wo 
to you, if you work not. 

There is another field of usefulness, re- 
cently opened to the enterprising, in the 



184 TEMPERANCE. 

temperance reformation. This next to re- 
ligion, is the most potent and godlike in its 
energies for good to mankind, of any other 
enterprize. It is yours, it is mine, it is the 
duty of all men to co-operate in this mighty 
system of usefulness. The presumption is, 
that you are temperate in the strictest mean- 
ing of the term. If this be not the case, all 
the foregoing suggestions and recommenda- 
tions are worthless to you, — however much 
they may benefit others, in your case, they 
are utterly lost. Intoxicating liquor in any 
of its forms is dangerous to every man, but 
more especially to young persons. If you 
taste it, as a drink, in any way, you are 
unsafe, as the man whose boat is within the 
draught of the falls of Niagara, and your 
whole energy should be exerted, until you 
have reached a place of safety. Where the 
mighty have fallen, the feeble should feel 
the danger. Mr. Todd, says, in relation to 
another matter, " when you see the tail of 
a fox projecting from the hole, you may be 
sure the fox is there," and when you see a 
man tasting liquor, you may be sure he will 



TEMPERANCE. 185 

be a drunkard if he does not cease such 
practices soon. 

Being free yourself from the destructive 
wiles of so merciless a destroyer, it is your 
duty and interest to aid in freeing others. 
What would be thought of the man, who 
because he was safe himself, he was there- 
fore to refuse to assist in saving a drowning 
man? He would be justly called a mur- 
derer. And I wish you to bear it in mind, 
that you will do yourself a vast, and incal- 
culable injury, if through pride, fear of 
reproach, or desire of popularity among the 
vulgar, you avoid bringing to bear upon the 
temperance reformation, the whole weight 
of your influence. The very fact that you 
stand neutral, while the two parties are 
contending in the heat of battle ; is in reality 
and will be esteemed, a most suspicious 
circumstance. " He who is not for us, is 
against us." The lines are now so drawn, 
the parties so divided, that all who are not 
for the cause of temperance, are deemed its 
enemies, declarations to the contrary, not- 
withstanding. This is a wordy age, and 

16* 



186 TEMPERANCE. 

many a man has declared himself the friend 
of temperance, who was its veriest enemy 
at the same time. To question the policy, 
and frown on the well meant efforts of 
temperance men, who are forward and 
active in the cause, by saying " they go too 
far" is the known habit, the only argument 
of moderate drinkers, and wine-bibbers," 
who have quite substantial reasons for not 
approving our measures. 

I wish to apprize you of the fact that you 
cannot trifle with this matter and be guilt- 
less. It is trifling with misery in its most 
degrading and appaling forms, and playing 
with death, as children play with marbles. 
If you were to see a man set up business, 
and open a shop in the heart of a dense 
population, for the sole purpose of poisoning 
community by administering arsenic to all 
whom he could entice into his den, would 
you not feel bound as a good citizen, to try 
to break him up ? If public meetings were 
called to express the indignation of the peo- 
ple, at his course, would you not make one 
of the number ? I know you would. Nor 



TEMPERANCE. 18? 

will you long be called a good citizen unless 
you do the same in relation to liquor sellers. 
Their purpose is not to destroy men it is 
true, but they do it notwithstanding, and 
you know it, and are therefore bound by 
every argument and reason, that can influ- 
ence an honest man, to oppose them in their 
work of death. 

By taking a decided stand, in the front 
rank of the temperance army and exerting 
yourselves like men, you may win laurels 
of renown and wear them during life. In 
fact 1 know of no path to usefulness and 
popularity so easy and short as this. Here 
you can accustom yourselves to useful 
labors, to public speaking, and the manage- 
ment of influence at an early day. And 
can you deny yourselves the honorable 
reputation to be acquired in such a work of 
mercy ? 

The world has a great claim on you, be- 
cause of the important relation you bear to 
society. Useful or injurious to others, you 
must be. Your fathers of a former genera- 
tion are many of them yet living, and fixing 



188 RESPONSIBILITIES. 

their eyes upon you, wondering what course 
you will take. To their tottering age, you 
will be expected to lend the hand of kind 
assistance, to close their eyes in death, and 
quietly lay them in the grave. Behind you 
and treading fast in your footseps are the 
members of another generation, whose 
habits, modes of life, and thought, you will 
mightily influence either for good or for 
evil. A vast burden of responsibility is 
thus laid upon your shoulders without your 
consent, nor can you easily, or innocently 
shake it off. Circumstances now existing 
place you far in the advance of those who 
have gone before, and therefore, more is 
expected from you, — wide is the field for 
the display of your active powers, and vast 
are the interests staked, and pending on 
your decision. 

Practical benevolence, is in this day a 
great and ennobling virtue. Selfish parsi- 
mony as it ought to be, has always been 
despised by the worthy and enlightened, in 
every community. "There is that with- 
holdeth and tendeth to poverty," has been 



RESPONSIBILITIES. 189 

a frequent matter of sad experiment. Men 
can do good with their money as well as 
anything else that they have, nor should we 
ever deny ourselves the privilege, when 
opportunity offers. I once knew a me- 
chanic to be driven out of a large town, by 
want of employment, because he refused 
to cast a penny in the basket at church. 
Those who would have employed* him, on 
seeing his disposition to withhold aid from 
others, refused him theirs, and turned their 
work into other hands. He who wishes to 
live among men, must show himself a man, 
or he need not hope for success. 

In conclusion, suffer me to enquire if you 
can see no reason why you should attempt 
all this ? Does not the pleasure of an honor- 
able reputation for doing good, to yourself 
first, and then to the bodies and souls of 
other men, hold out an invitation so strong 
as to be difficult to resist ? Irreligion, in- 
temperance, and sin of all kinds, have 
united their energies to ruin and devastate 
our earth, — it is for you, by the grace of 
God to oppose and overcome these deadly 



1 90 RESPONSIBILITIES, 

foes to human peace and prosperity. It is 
not enough that you praise those now en- 
gaged in laudable efforts to benefit their 
race, much more than this is expected at 
your hands. You are to take hold your- 
selves, and be forward in promoting every 
good work. You should covet the posts of 
greatest responsibility, and willingly do the 
very drudgery of benevolence — by so doing 
you shall deserve well of your generation, 
and receive all your deserts. 



THE END. 



